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THE WOMAN 



THE ROMANCE 
AND TRAGEDY 

- - OF A ~ 

Widely Known 
Business Man of New York 

BY HIMSELF 

(William Ingraham Russell) 


Golden Wedding Edition 


Fourth Edition 

ILLUSTRATED 


Calvert Building, Baltimore, Md. 
WILLIAM L RUSSELL 
1922 





<s 


Copyright, 1905, by 
The Neale Publishing Company 


Copyright, 1907, by 
Ella G, Russell 


Copyright, 1922, by 
Ella G. Russell V 



BALTIMORE, MD. U. S. 


A. 


c 


< 



rec-i’sv „ 

©CU692130O 


GOLDEN WEDDING EDITION 

This Special Autograph Edition of The 
Romance and Tragedy of a Widely Known 
Business Man of New York is limited to 
oue thousand copies, of which this volume is 

Number 102 


* 

d 



3 



1872 

October Twenty-third, 
1922 


TO MY WIFE 


Who, after fifty years of married life, 
is still my sweetheart 
In omne tempus 






AUTHOR’S NOTE to 
GOLDEN WEDDING EDITION 


The concluding paragraph in my Third Edition 
reads as follows : 

“Once more in active business life with 
all the old energy and ambition and in per- 
fect health, I may yet have another fifteen 
years to put in practice a principle I know 
to be sound.” 

This was written in 1907. The fifteen years have 
passed, and as I write these lines I can truthfully 
say the a energy,” “ambition” and “perfect health” is 
still with me, and as the years have passed I have 
seemed to grow younger. Today with a brilliant 
prospect of great success in a proposition that will, 
I believe, bring a blessing to mankind — this phase 
demonstrated beyond doubt — I feel as young as at 
forty ! Thousands of delightful letters have come to 
me from my readers, and many have asked me to go 
on with the story. In this final edition my experi- 
ence of the last fifteen years is related, and I hope it 
will not be found devoid of interest. 









. 



















































































































































































AUTHOR’S NOTES TO PREVIOUS EDITIONS 
TO MY READERS 


A true story of a life I give you ; not in its comple- 
tion, for it is still unfinished. The romance of youth 
has lingered through all the later years, and the trag- 
edy of these years could not destroy it. In the manu- 
script tears have fallen on some pages, smiles on oth- 
ers, and still others have been scorched with the fire 
of indignation. 

Why is it written? To bear testimony to the love 
and devotion of a noble woman; to set straight be- 
fore the world certain matters now misunderstood; 
to give evidence of the insincerity of friendship that 
comes to one in prosperity, only to vanish in adver- 
sity; and also, in the hope that an appreciative pub- 
lic will buy the book. 

Not all the names used are fictitious, and where 
they are so, no effort has been made to conceal iden- 
tity. 

No spirit of malice has animated the writer. Al- 
though his wounds have been deep, he knows now no 
feeling save sorrow and regret that they should have 
been inflicted by his “friends.” 

William Ingraham Russell. 


February 1, 1905. 












AUTHOR’S NOTE TO SECOND EDITION 


This narrative, first published in an author’s auto- 
graph edition, limited to one thousand copies, was 
privately circulated, the entire edition having been 
sold by the author through correspondence. 

A second edition is now offered to the public. The 
original narrative, except for the correction of a few 
minor errors, is unchanged, and added to it are two 
chapters disclosing a remarkable sequel and also set- 
ting forth a lesson for the younger generation of 
business men, showing clearly how different would 
have been the conditions had my wisdom come be- 
fore my experience. 

This latter chapter was written at the suggestion 
of an eminently successful New York business man, 
president of one of the largest and oldest concerns in 
the United States. 

William Ingraham Russell. 

“Chestnut Ridge , ” 

Jessup, Maryland, 


February 15, 1907. 





















t 

























AUTHOR’S NOTE TO THIRD EDITION 


Why is it published? 

The Second Edition — long out of print, still orders 
that could not be filled were continually received. 
These have come from nearly every State in the 
Union, and as the book has never been advertised 
other than by press reviews and the favorable com- 
ment of readers, this demand means something. 

Perhaps if you read the narrative you will dis- 
cover the answer. 

William Ingraham Russell. 

Calvert Building, 

Baltimore, Maryland, 


August 23, 1913. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The First Round of the Ladder 17 

II I Meet My Affinity 25 

III A Co-Partnership Dissolved 32 

IV And the Answer Was “Yes” 38 

V Wedding Bells 45 

VI A First Reverse of Fortune 51 

VII The Coming of the Stork 57 

VIII The New Partner 62 

IX Suburban Life 68 

X My Partner Retires 73 

XI A Year of Sunshine 78 

XII An Ideal Life 82 

XIII Prosperous Days 89 

XIV Near the Dark Valley 94 

XV A Successful Maneuver 99 

XVI “Redstone” 104 

XVII Our Neighbors 112 

XVIII An Uneventful Year 116 

XIX The Stream Broadens 119 

XX Retrogression 122 

XXI The Dam Gives Way 126 

XXII The Calm Before the Storm 130 

XXIII “A Few Weak French Speculators” 133 

XXIV Exciting Times 137 

XXV “Come and Dance in the Barn” 143 

XXVI An Importer and Dealer 148 


Contents 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXVII Sad Hearts at Knollwood 152 

XXVIII New Faces 158 

XXIX A Short Year and a Merry One 162 

XXX A Voucher 165 

XXXI Two Sides to the Question 168 

XXXII The Panic of Ninety-Three 171 

XXXIII Farewell to “Redstone” 175 

XXXIV A Summer on the Sound 182 

XXXV Monmouth Beach 186 

XXXVI The Ship Founders 190 

XXXVII The Family and Friends 197 

XXXVIII “W. E. Stowe & Co., Incorporated” 201 

XXXIX The Struggle Commenced 206 

XL The Struggle Continued 212 

XLI Darkness Before the Dawn 219 

XLII Brighter Days 223 

XLIII Smooth Sailing Into Rough Waters 227 

XLIV The Tyranny of the Jury Law 233 

XLV Bitter Trials 236 

XLVI At the Brink of the Grave 239 

XLVII Again at the Helm 243 

XLVIII A Nightmare 248 

XLIX Retrospection 251 

L A Dream 258 

LI “From God and the King’ 260 

LII A Foundation Principle 270 

LIII Life on the Farm 274 

LIV “The Best Laid Schemes o' Mice and Men 

Gang Aft a-Gley” 278 

LV On the Defense 292 

LVI A Brief Summary 298 

LVII A Blessing to Mankind 300 

LVIII Two Letters 307 

LIX The End of the Narrative 312 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


The Woman — 1922 Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Portrait 16 

“Sunnyside” 84 

“Redstone” 106 

“Redstone” — Library 110 

Off for a Drive 146 

Eighty-sixth Street and West End Avenue 17S 

The Woman — 1895 199 

“Redstone” — The Hall 260 

“Chestnut Ridge” . 268 

“Chestnut Ridge” — Library 270 































/ 






















































W. I. RUSSELL 


THE ROMANCE AND TRAGEDY OF A WIDELY 
KNOWN BUSINESS MAN OF NEW YORK 


CHAPTER I 

THE FIRST ROUND OF THE LADDER 

“New York, February 23d, 1866. 
Master Walter E. Stowe: 

If you have not yet procured a situation, please 
call at my office, 45 Duane Street, and oblige. 

Yours truly, 

Jno. Derham, 

Per T. E. D.” 

This letter came to me in response to my applica- 
tion for a situation as an office-boy. I had replied 
to the advertisement in the Herald, without consult- 
ing my parents, knowing they would raise objections 
to my leaving school. 

My father, one of New York’s old-time shipping 
merchants, running a line of packets to Cuban ports, 


18 


The First Round of the Ladder 


had failed in business as a result of losses during the 
war, the crowding out of sailing vessels by steamers, 
and unfortunate outside investments. 

It did not require great discernment to see the ne- 
cessity of my giving up all idea of going to Columbia 
College, for which I was preparing, and thus, before 
I was sixteen years of age, I commenced as an office- 
boy at a salary of three dollars per week. The posi- 
tion in those days was vastly different from what it 
is today. The work now done by janitors and por- 
ters fell to the office-boy, and my duties included 
sweeping and dusting the office, cleaning windows, 
and in winter making fires. 

This work, menial and distasteful as it was to the 
boy brought up in luxury, was cheerfully under- 
taken, and it is only referred to here to show that my 
start was from the first round of the ladder. 

My employer, a north of Ireland man, though fre- 
quently brusque with others, often to the detriment 
of his own interest, always treated me with consid- 
eration, and probably my life at the office ran as 
smoothly as that of any lad in similar position. The 
only other employee was a younger brother of Mr. 
Derham, who was taken in as a limited partner 
shortly after I was employed. The firm carried on a 
brokerage business, requiring no capital, and stood 
in the trade as well and perhaps a little better than 
any of its competitors, of which there were but few. 

Much of the business done by the firm consisted in 
the execution of orders for out-of-town dealers and 


The First Round of the Ladder 


19 


consumers, but by far the greater volume comprised 
the negotiations carried on between the different im- 
porters and dealers of New York. 

The entire business of the United States, in their 
line of trade, was practically controlled by these im- 
porters and dealers. The characteristics of the trade 
as they existed then, exist today.* A few of the old 
firms have gone out of existence through failure or 
liquidation, and some accessions have been made, 
chiefly of foreign blood, but most of the old concerns 
remain, and, though the personality of these has 
changed through the departure of many on the long 
journey and the taking of their places by their suc- 
cessors, the same spirit that was in evidence in the 
years immediately following the war animates the 
trade today. 

Admitting that sentiment has no place in business 
and brotherly love is not to be expected amongst 
business competitors, I feel safe in saying that in no 
other trade has jealous rivalry so nearly approached 
to personal animosity. 

Pre-eminent in the trade stands a firm with name 
unchanged for three generations, of world-wide rep- 
utation for its wealth and the philanthropy of its 
individual members, past and present, all of whom 
have been prominent in New York’s religious and 
social life. Another firm only a few years ago dis- 
continued a custom of hanging on the walls of its 


*1905 


20 


The First Round of the Ladder 


offices scriptural texts. Of still another firm, the 
most active member is a leader of Brooklyn’s annual 
Sunday-school processions, though he prides himself 
on his cold blood, and before leaving his home in the 
morning to go to his office replaces his heart with a 
paving-stone. But why go on ? Suffice it to say that 
the trade is eminently respectable and rich, in some 
instances possessed of enormous wealth, and this is 
the trade in which I began my career. 

My office life for the first two years was routine 
and devoid of excitement, except for occasional stren- 
uous experiences the result of Mr. Derham’s brusque- 
ness and quickness to resent anything that he deemed 
an attempt to take advantage of, or put a slight upon 
him. He was the sort of man that makes a steadfast 
friend or a bitter enemy, with no room for anything 
in between. 

“Walter, take this contract to Winter and bring 
me his acceptance,” said Mr. Derham on one occa- 
sion, when, having made what in those days was con- 
sidered a large sale, he was feeling particularly good- 
natured over it. 

“Yes, sir,” I replied, and was off at once, little 
knowing the reception awaiting me in the Beaver 
Street office of Rudolph C. Winter. 

On entering the office I approached Mr. Winter’s 
desk and handed him the contract. He glanced at it, 
and then all the nervous irritability for which he 
was noted came to the surface at once. Springing up 
from his desk, upsetting the chair in his haste and 
rushing toward me, he shouted : 


The First Round of the Ladder 


21 


“Here! take this back to Mr. Derham; tell him I 
won’t have it ! I didn’t sell it ; get out !” And, push- 
ing me across the office, he opened the door and 
thrust me into the street, throwing after me my hat, 
which had been knocked from my hand. 

It did not take me long to get back to Mr. Derham 
and give him an account of what had occurred. 

In a fury he put on his hat and saying, “come with 
me,” we walked rapidly to Winter’s office. Entering 
the door with blood in his eye, Mr. Derham stepped 
up to the still wrathful merchant. 

“Winter, I understand you decline to accept this 
contract.” 

“But,” began Winter, when down on the desk came 
Mr. Derham’s clenched fist. 

“No explanations now; sign first, and then after 
you have apologized to my messenger, who is my rep- 
resentative when I send him to you, perhaps I’ll lis- 
ten, and I am not sure I will not give you a good 
thrashing afterwards.” 

The fury of Winter disappeared and in its place 
there was a very mild spring. He signed the con- 
tract, told me he was sorry he had been so hasty, and 
when I left them he was trying to pacify Mr. Der- 
ham. 

On another occasion, Mr. Brightman, of Bright- 
man & Smart, a dignified gentleman at that time 
acting as consul for the Netherlands, called at the 
office. 

It appeared he had made a sale which he regretted 
and he called to have it canceled, claiming that he 


22 


The First Round of the Ladder 


had been induced to make the sale through the al- 
leged misrepresentation by Mr. Thomas Derham, of 
certain features of the market. 

The argument became heated and Brightman called 
Thomas a liar. His brother looked at him in silence 
for a moment, long enough to discover that he was 
lacking either in pluck or inclination to resent the 
insult, then, springing at Brightman, he literally 
threw him out of the office. 

These scenes, though not of daily occurrence, w^ere 
frequent enough to relieve the monotony of office life 
and at the same time to give me a wholesome fear of 
incurring my employer’s displeasure. 

In the summer of 1868 Mr. Thomas Derham was 
married. For some reason unknown to me his brother 
did not approve, and a little later differences arose 
between them, the friction increasing until finally a 
separation of their business interests was agreed 
upon. Mr. Thomas Derham launched out on his own 
account, and the competition between the brothers 
became a bitter warfare, all personal intercourse 
ceasing. 

At this time my salary was seven dollars per week, 
and Mr. Derham, after the dissolution of partner- 
ship with his brother, advanced it to ten dollars. 

As he was my only employer and there were no 
further advances later, this is the largest salary I 
was ever paid. 

How large it looked to me then I remember well, 
and although matters had gone from bad to worse 


The First Round of the Ladder 


23 


at home and most of my earnings had to contribute 
to keep the pot boiling, it seemed to me as if I were 
rich the first Saturday night I carried home the ten- 
dollar bill. 

From this time my position in the office became 
more dignified. A woman was employed to do the 
cleaning, and Mr. Derham delegated to me the plac- 
ing of many of the smaller orders and occasionally 
sent me on business trips to near-by cities. 

I worked hard and faithfully to make my services 
valuable. I kept the books, made collections, at- 
tended to a portion of the correspondence, and it was 
not long before I had acquired a thorough knowledge 
of the methods of doing the business and was able to 
carry out transactions to a finish without having to 
consult my employer. 

In October, 1870, Mr. Derham told me he had de- 
cided to give up the business and accept an offer 
which had been made him by one of the large import- 
ing firms, to go to England as its foreign representa- 
tive. 

He proposed that I take his business, paying him 
for the good-will twenty-five per cent of the profits 
for three years. 

As I was not yet twenty years of age, he thought 
me too young to assume the business alone, and ad- 
vised a partnership on equal terms with a Mr Bulk- 
ley, then doing a brokerage business in a line that 
would work in well with ours, it being his idea to 
combine the two. 


24 


The First Round of the Ladder 


Adam Bulkley, a tall, handsome fellow of thirty- 
five, was a personal friend of Mr. Derham. He was 
a captain in the Seventh Regiment and had seen 
service. A man of attractive personality, he had 
many friends and had married the daughter of one 
of the wealthiest hide and leather brokers in the 
“swamp.” 

I do not know why, but in my first interview with 
this man I took an aversion to him. 1 tried to con- 
vince Mr. Derham that I could do better without a 
partner, but he thought otherwise, and not unnat- 
urally, under the circumstances, I allowed matters 
to take their course as he planned them, and the 
partnership was made for a period of three years. 

Early in November Mr. Derham sailed for Eng- 
land, leaving as his successor the firm of Bulkley & 
Stowe. 


CHAPTEK II 


I MEET MY AFFINITY 

My home was in Brooklyn. On my mother’s side 
the family came from the old Dutch settlers of that 
section of Greater New York. My mother’s father 
was a commissioned officer in the War of 1812. My 
father came from Connecticut, of English ancestry. 
1 used to tell my mother the only thing I could never 
forgive her was that I was born in Brooklyn, and I 
have never gotten over my dislike for the place, 
though it is nearly thirty years since I left there. 

The family for generations back have been Episco- 
palians, and from earliest childhood I was accus- 
tomed to attend regularly Sunday-school and church 
services. 

After my father’s failure we moved into a house on 
St. James Place, and our church home was old St. 
Luke’s, on Clinton avenue. Doctor Diller, the rector, 
who lost his life in the burning of a steamboat on the 
East Biver, was a life-long friend of the family, and 
my social intercourse was chiefly with the young 
people of his church. 

Mr. Sherman, the treasurer and senior warden of 
the church and superintendent of the Sunday-school, 
a fine old gentleman, now gathered to his fathers, 


26 


I Meet My Affinity 


was one of Hon. Seth Low’s “Cabinet” when he was 
Mayor of Brooklyn. Seth Low, by the way, is the 
same age as myself, and we were schoolmates at the 
Polytechnic Institute. 

As librarian of the Sunday-school and one of the 
committee in charge of the social meetings of the 
young people, I became intimate with Mr. Sherman 
and his family. 

On December 20, 1870, the first sociable of the 
season was held and I had looked forward to it with 
considerable interest, owing to the fact that a niece 
of Mr. Sherman, residing in Chicago and then visit- 
ing him for the winter, was to be present. I had 
heard the young lady spoken of in such glowing 
terms that I anticipated much pleasure in meeting 
her. 

When the evening came and I met Miss Wilson, I 
must confess I was not deeply impressed, and I have 
since learned that the lady, who had heard much of 
me from her cousin, Miss Sherman, regarded me with 
indifference. 

On this occasion the saying that “first impres- 
sions go a great way” was disproved, for two weeks 
later, after returning from the second sociable, where 
I again met Miss Wilson, I said to my sister, whom I 
had escorted: 

“What do you think of Miss Wilson?” 

“A very charming girl,” she replied, and I then 
told her I had lost my heart and was determined to 
win her for my wife. 


I Meet My Affinity 


27 


Miss Wilson was of the brunette type. Her face, 
surmounted by a mass of dark brown, silky hair, was 
most attractive. A clear olive complexion, charming 
features, and beneath long lashes, large, brilliant 
eyes. Her figure was finely proportioned and graceful. 

Endowed with unusual common sense and well 
educated, she was a most interesting conversation- 
alist, while her voice was musical and well modu- 
lated. 

Why I did not discover all these charms on the 
occasion of our first meeting I never have been able 
to understand, unless it was because our intercourse 
on that evening was limited to little more than a 
formal introduction. 

Thereafter I sought every possible opportunity for 
the enjoyment of Miss Wilson’s society. 

Our acquaintance quickly grew into a friendship 
which permitted almost daily intercourse and em 
abled me to fathom the noble nature of the girl and 
to realize what a blessing would be mine if I could 
win her affection. 

A girl of strong character, there was nothing of 
the frivolous about her. In the frequent informal 
social gatherings she was always the life of the occa- 
sion, but never did her merriment get down to the 
level of silliness. Without a suspicion of prudish- 
ness, there was always with her the natural dignity 
of the true-born gentlewoman. 

Of course, it need not be said that Miss Wilson 


28 I Meet My Affinity 

had many admirers — altogether too many for my 
peace of mind. 

When I would get temporary relief by thinking I 
was getting the best of the Brooklyn element, I 
would suffer a heart-throb because of news that some 
flame left behind in Chicago was burning brighter. 
When that would dim or become extinguished, de- 
pressing news would reach me from West Point, 
where Miss Wilson visited her cousin, the wife of an 
officer. 

Thus I was kept guessing most of the time, and 
though I could not but feel I was steadily gaining 
my way to the goal, I cannot say that I did not spend 
many an anxious hour pondering over the other fel- 
low’s chances. 

In the early summer Miss Wilson left Brooklyn 
for a visit to relatives in Boston. 

A few days later I followed her to that city, and 
her pleasure at seeing me was so evident, her recep- 
tion so cordial, that I dismissed from my mind all 
fear of my rivals and determined to take an early 
opportunity of offering her my hand and heart. 

How impatiently I awaited her return ! The days 
dragged along. I was restless and unhappy. We did 
not correspond, so there were no letters to brighten 
the gloomy days of waiting. 

To a small degree I derived some comfort from 
frequent calls on Miss Sherman, who was good 
enough to tell me of her letters from her cousin and 
good-natured enough to permit me to spend most of 


I Meet My Affinity 


29 


the evening in talking about her. I was certainly 
very much in love, and, as the case with most young 
men in that condition of mind, the object of my 
adoration was always in my thoughts. 

All things finally come to an end, and early in 
July Miss Wilson returned to Brooklyn. She was to 
remain but a few days before leaving for a visit in 
Connecticut. 

In the interim I felt I must speak, and yet now 
that the opportunity had arrived, what a mighty 
proposition it seemed. 

For days and days I had been thinking of it, at 
night I dreamed of it. It seemed so easy to tell the 
woman I loved, that I loved her, and yet when the 
time had come my courage waned. I let day after 
day pass in spite of a resolution each morning that 
before sleeping again I would know my fate. 

I tried to reason with myself. 

I knew that my personality was not objectionable. 
I had lived an absolutely clean life, had no vices. 
My associates were of the right kind, business pros- 
pects satisfactory. Why should I hesitate to offer a 
hand that was clean, a heart that was pure to the 
woman I loved? “I will do it,” I said aloud, and I 
did — that evening. 

It was the evening of July 10, 1871. 

The day had been warm and oppressive, but after 
sundown a pleasant breeze cooled the air. 

As I entered the grounds surrounding Mr. Sher- 
man’s home I stood for a few moments beneath the 


30 


I Meet My Affinity 


foliage of his fine old trees, inhaling the fragrance of 
the flowers blooming on the lawn. 

My mind was filled with a feeling of awe at the 
great responsibility I was about to assume. 

I had perfect confidence in my ability to care for 
the well-being and happiness of the object of my 
affection. I knew my love was sincere and lasting, 
and yet, when I thought of all it meant, to take a 
girl from a home in which she was loved and happy, 
to bind her to me for all time, to share what might 
come of good or evil in the uncertainties of life, it 
came over me with tremendous force that if this girl 
should intrust her heart to my keeping, a lifetime of 
devotion should be her reward. 

The early part of the evening was passed in gen- 
eral conversation with the family, and after a little 
music we were finally left alone. 

The hour had come! 

At my request Miss Wilson sat at the piano and 
played a few strains of an old waltz we had been dis- 
cussing. I stood beside her while she sat there, and 
in tones trembling with the intensity of my feelings 
I poured forth the old, old story. I told her of my 
love in such words as I could command in my agi- 
tation. 

Then, while my heart almost ceased beating, Miss 
Wilson told me in the kindest possible manner of her 
appreciation of the offer and also of her complete 
surprise. She said that while she esteemed me 
highly as a friend and liked me personally very 


I Meet My Affinity 


31 


much, she had not thought of me as a lover, and 
that she could not regard me in that light. 

To say that I was crushed by the blow, kindly as 
it had fallen, does not express my feelings. When, 
however, in reply to my question I learned that 
there was no one else — that she was still heart free, 
I gained courage; and when, before I had left her 
that evening, she had consented to leave the matter 
open until some future time, my hopes of ultimate 
success were very far from being destroyed. 


CHAPTER III 


A CO-PARTNERSHIP DISSOLVED 

Before Mr. Derham had landed in England my 
feeling of dislike for my partner had increased ma- 
terially. 

His own business, which had been represented as 
worth at least five hundred dollars per month to the 
firm, was, so far as I could see, largely a myth. 

He had a habit of arriving at the office at half- 
past ten or eleven o’clock and leaving at three. By 
frequent demands on his father-in-law he kept him- 
self in funds to provide for his extravagant living, 
and it seemed to me his principal object in coming to 
the office at all was to meet various fast-looking men 
who called there to see him. 

To cap the climax, he had a half-patronizing, half- 
nagging way of treating me that I simply could not 
put up with. I was doing all the business, earning 
all the money that was made, and this man was en- 
titled to fifty per cent of the net results. I stood it 
for a few months, meanwhile writing fully to Mr. 
Derham of the position in which I was placed. 


A Co-Partnership Dissolved 


33 


Finally, on the 10th of March, 1871, when I saw 
on Bulkley’s desk a note for a few hundred dollars, 
drawn to his order and signed by him with the firm’s 
name, and in response to my inquiry as to the mean- 
ing of it, he told me it was a little matter he was 
putting through by a friend for his own accommo- 
dation, I cut the knot and insisted on a dissolution 
of our co-partnership. 

I had to pay him a small sum to get his consent, 
and, though I had to borrow the money to make the 
payment, I did so rather than have any litigation, 
which he threatened. 

It was with a feeling of immense relief that I went 
to the office the following morning, knowing that I 
was rid of the leaden weight which Mr. Derham had 
bound to me in an error of judgment, which he read- 
ily admitted. 

The sign was removed and in its place went up 
another bearing my name only. 

Although in the trade I enjoyed a fair measure of 
popularity, which is the keynote to a broker’s suc- 
cess, I found my youth a disadvantage when it came 
to seeking important business. 

The dealers hesitated to intrust me with the car- 
rying out of large contracts, while favoring me with 
the smaller orders. This was a great trial and I 
could not but feel it an injustice. Still, there was 
nothing I could do except to be grateful for the fa- 
vors I received and strive in every way to demon- 
strate my ability. 


34 


A Co-Partnership Dissolved 


Another thing I had to fight against was the ques- 
tionable methods of a firm which was my principal 
competitor. 

Naturally, there was a very active effort made to 
get away from me the old trade which Mr. Derham 
had held well in hand for many years. This I had 
expected, but I did not count upon my competitor 
waiving commissions whenever we came into a con- 
test for business of any importance. 

This sort of competition I could not meet, not only 
as a matter of principle based on the idea that “the 
laborer is worthy of his hire,” but because I could 
not afford to do business for nothing. 

Despite the handicap of youth and unfair compe- 
tition, I kept steadily at work increasing the strength 
of my position where it was already established, and 
striving to the utmost to get a foothold where I had 
not yet secured it. 

At the end of the year, when the books were bal- 
anced, I found that I had made about twenty-five 
hundred dollars, as compared with twelve thousand 
dollars made by Mr. Derham the year previous. 

This was most unsatisfactory to me, for while, of 
course, it was a much larger income than I had ever 
before earned, it was so far below my expectations 
that I could not but feel keen disappointment. 

Still, I knew that I now possessed a business, and 
as the prospects were good, I started the new year 
with courage and determination to make a better 
showing. 


A Co-Partnership Dissolved 


35 


Early in the year two incidents occurred that 
helped me immensely. 

The largest consumers in our line were the oil re- 
finers, all of whom have since been absorbed by the 
Standard Oil Company. 

These concerns were heavy buyers, and Mr.Thomas 
Derham had the preference on their business. From 
the first I had struggled to get a share of it, without 
having made them, after a year of constant effort, a 
single sale. Still, I made a daily call on each and 
finally secured my first order. 

It was given to me by Mr. J. A. Bostwick person- 
ally, and the order was so large I could scarcely be- 
lieve I had captured it. This was the entering wedge, 
and throughout the year, although not getting more 
than a very small proportion of the business, I suc- 
ceeded in selling occasionally to all of the refiners. 

The other incident was even more important in its 
results, for it was the commencement of intimate re- 
lations with the important firm which stood at the 
head of the trade. 

This firm had up to that time shown a decided fa- 
voritism for my chief competitor, but this feeling 
changed in consequence of investments in a mining 
stock, both by the firm and by its most active indi- 
vidual member, which they had been led into through 
the influence of my competitor. 

The investment proved disastrous, resulting in 
losses of more than a hundred thousand dollars, and 
though this sum was insignificant to people of such 


36 


A Co-Partnership Dissolved 


large wealth, the feeling of bitterness aroused was 
most acute. 

My competitor had for many years as a Boston 
correspondent the firm of W. B. Tatnall & Company, 
and through it a large business was done with the 
Boston dealers ; but the most important phase of this 
connection was the fact that Tatnall controlled the 
selling of a certain commodity imported in large 
quantities by a Boston firm and of which the leading 
firm in New York was the largest buyer. 

Tatnall & Company had severed abruptly its con- 
nection with my competitor, and without my solici- 
tation made me a proposition which I promptly ac- 
cepted. The competing firm immediately established 
in Boston as its correspondent a brother of the senior 
partner. 

The first battle for supremacy came over the sale 
of a cargo due to arrive at Boston by a sailing vessel. 
This was before the days of the telephone, and 
numerous telegrams passed between us before the 
transaction was closed. 

When the final message confirming the sale reached 
me, it read as follows: “Closed, contracts coming, 
competitors conquered, congratulations, cocktails, 
cigars, careful contemplation.” 

In a feeling of exuberance Tatnall had written this 
telegram, and by his closing words meant me to re- 
member that “one swallow does not make a summer” 
and that overconfidence on the occasion of a first 
success would be unwise. 


A Co-Partnership Dissolved 


87 


Mr. W. B. Tatnall came to New York a few days 
later. It was our first meeting and I found him a 
delightful man, a typical Bostonian. He was highly 
cultured, well up in art, a book-collector of some 
repute. 

I recall one little incident of his visit which amused 
me greatly. The weather was very stormy and his sal- 
utation on greeting me was, “Good morning, Mr. 
Stowe ; fine day for birds of an aquatic nature.” 

We called on all the trade, and in every office he 
made the same remark. Before the day w^as over I 
concluded I was not likely ever to forget that rain 
makes “a fine day for ducks.” 


CHAPTER IV 


AND THE ANSWER WAS “YES” 

Although when I left Miss Wilson on that evening 
in July it was not as an accepted lover, as I had 
brought myself to believe it would be, and my disap- 
pointment was overwhelming that such was the case, 
my heart told me that all was not lost. 

She had admitted that she admired and respected 
me more than any other man of her acquaintance, 
while she did not feel the love for me that a woman 
should give to the man she marries. 

This admission I deemed a great point gained. 

With a field cleared of rivals, it only remained to 
transform her admiration and respect into love. 
How to do that was for me to find out. That it 
could be done I felt reasonably certain. 

It was my first love-affair, hence I was an amateur 
in such matters. This I knew was a point in my fa- 
vor, as Miss Wilson was not the sort of girl to ad- 
mire a man who had a habit of falling in love with 
every pretty face. Life in her eyes had its serious 
side and she was well equipped mentally to test the 
true ring of those with whom she came in contact. 

The following day I wrote Miss Wilson at length, 
reiterating and enlarging on all that I had said, tell- 


And the Answer Was “Yes” 


39 


ing her I would wait until she felt she could give me 
a definite answer, and begging her not to hasten her 
decision if it was to be negative. 

If I had any fear at all it was on this point — that 
she might feel it imperative to decide the matter 
promptly, while I was prepared to wait, years if nec- 
essary, rather than to take from those lips which I 
so eagerly longed to press to mine own in love’s first 
caress, the relentless, cruel — no. 

Miss Wilson’s contemplated visit to Connecticut 
was postponed for a while, and this gave me an op- 
portunity to see her daily. 

That I laid vigorous siege to her heart was cer- 
tain. I was most assiduous in all those little atten- 
tions that please a woman, and as our tastes were 
entirely congenial, our hours of companionship were 
delightful to both. 

If I were a few minutes late in making my even- 
ing call, very rarely the case, she would remark it, 
and I soon realized that the feature of her day was 
the hours passed with me. In fact, my presence was 
becoming necessary to her happiness. 

As soon as this impression became fixed in my 
mind, I grew impatient at delay in the culmination 
of my desires, and felt I must soon urge Miss Wilson 
to relieve me of suspense by making me the happiest 
of men. Probably I should have done this within a 
few days had it not been for the fact that she left 
Brooklyn on her visit to Middletown, Connecticut 
Then I decided to await her return. 

On the morning of the sixth of September I found 


40 


And the Answer Was “Yes” 


in my mail at the office an envelope addressed in a 
lady’s handwriting, postmarked Middletown, Con- 
necticut. 

It contained a brief note from Miss Wilson, stat- 
ing that on that day at one o’clock she would be 
due at New York, and was going at once for a week 
at West Point, and asked me, if convenient, to meet 
her at the railroad station to escort her across the 
city to the boat. 

There were three significant points in that note, 
the first I had ever received from her. 

First, it commenced with “Dear Walter.” Always 
before I had been Mr. Stowe. Next, it was signed as 
“Yours, with love” ; and last, but by no means least, 
Miss Wilson wrote, as a postscript, “I shall be 
alone.” 

Would it be convenient for me to meet that train? 
I should say so. 

I was at the station with a carriage at least half 
an hour ahead of time, and I walked the platform of 
the old Twenty-seventh Street station of the New 
York, New Haven and Hartford Railroad Company, 
back and forth, looking at my watch every five min- 
utes and wondering if the train would ever come. 

The train arrived on time, and as Miss Wilson 
alighted from the car, I greeted her. How I gazed 
into those beautiful eyes and tried to read there the 
love I hungered for. 

We drove to the Hotel Brunswick for luncheon, 
and if “the proof of the pudding is in the eating,” 
the luncheon, despite the good reputation of that old 


And the Answer Was “Yes” 


41 


hostelry, then in its palmy days, must have been a 
poor one. Either that, or we lacked appetite — more 
likely the latter. 

After luncheon we again took the carriage and 
drove to the pier, where the Mary Powell was await 
ing her passengers. 

It was during that drive, while passing down Fifth 
Avenue, that the word I so longed to hear was 
spoken. “Yes” — only a single word, and yet it spoke 
volumes to my heart. It bound together for all time 
two beings, neither of whom had known for longer 
than a few months even of the existence of the other, 
and yet a divine power had brought these two hearts, 
beating in unison, to their natural mate. While the 
lips whispered “yes,” the hand found its way to 
mine and the loving clasp was the only demonstra- 
tion the surroundings permitted; but when the car- 
riage had turned into a comparatively quiet side 
street and just before it reached the pier, I could no 
longer refrain. 

Drawing the curtains at the carriage windows, I 
clasped to my heart the lovely girl who was now my 
very own. 

Oh, what an ecstasy of bliss that moment was ! 

I have owned many handsome carriages, luxurious 
in their appointments, drawn by fine horses, but as 
I look back to that day of days, that shabby public 
hack, with its rough-looking driver, holding the reins 
over a pair of ill-fed animals, stands in my memory 
as almost ideal. 

Of course I did not leave my promised wife at the 


42 


And the Answer Was “Yes” 


boat. There was no reason I should not take that 
delightful sail up the river with her, and there was 
every reason why I should. I sought out a secluded 
spot on deck and there, comparatively free from ob- 
servation, we let our thoughts revel in our new- 
found happiness. 

It was possible, unseen, to occasionally clasp each 
other’s hand, and in this way a sort of lover’s wire- 
less telegraph kept us in communication that em- 
phasized to me the fact that my happiness was real 
and not a dream. 

Our conversation was not very animated ; we were 
too happy to talk, and the beautiful scenery of the 
Hudson was lost to us on that occasion. 

To look into each other’s eyes and read there all 
that was in our hearts was the supreme pleasure and 
happiness of the moment. 

When the boat arrived at West Point, Lieutenant 
Harper, then Professor of Spanish at the Academy, 
afterwards major, and since promoted to colonel for 
gallantry in the Philippines, met Miss Wilson at the 
landing. 

I had planned to at once take the ferry across the 
river — there was no West Shore Railroad at that 
time — and return to New York by train, but Lieu- 
tenant Harper insisted that I should dine with them 
and take a later train, which I did. 

Of course the, to us, great incident of the day was 
unknown to Miss Wilson’s friends, and she did not 
enlighten them until after I had gone. 

The two or three hours spent with Lieutenant 


And the Answer Was “Yes” 


43 


Harper’s family, while I was supposed to be simply 
a friend of Miss Wilson, passed quickly. I had hoped 
to be able on leaving to see her alone for at least a 
few moments, but in this I was disappointed, and 
while the clasp of her hand and the expression of her 
eyes conveyed a great deal to me, our parting that 
evening was in its details most unsatisfactory from 
a lover’s point of view. 

During that first week of our engagement, while 
separated, we corresponded daily, and the rejoicing 
was mutual when, her visit ended, Miss Wilson re- 
turned to Brooklyn. 

Then for two short weeks I enjoyed to the full the 
privileges and delights of an accepted lover. What 
visions of future happiness those two weeks of close 
companionship opened to my eyes! The refinement 
and natural dignity of the woman made her caresses 
cf exquisite daintiness and tenderness. Spontane- 
ously and absolutely without a suggestion of affec- 
tation her love was poured out generously to the 
man who had won her heart, and each evening it 
seemed as if my affection had increased a thousand 
fold. 

Oh, what a wonderful thing is pure love? What 
would the world be without it? 

The day of our parting was drawing nigh. 

At the end of September Miss Wilson was to re 
turn to her home in Chicago. A month later I was 
to visit her there, but the thought of that month 
of separation so soon after we had become engaged 
saddened us and our hearts dreaded the ordeal. Still, 


44 


And the Answer Was “Yes” 


come it did, and as I watched the train pull out of 
the station, carrying with it all that I loved best in 
the world, I felt a wrench at my heartstrings and a 
loneliness that was inexpressible. 

For a month I consoled myself as best I could with 
the letters which reached me almost daily and al- 
ways brought me happiness. 

Then I turned my face westward. 

Miss Wilson’s father had been dead for many 
years. She, with her mother, resided with her mar- 
ried sister, the wife of a general in the army during 
the war, and at the time of which I write, Judge of 
the Probate Court. Until his death, a few years ago, 
he w r as one of Chicago’s best known and most highly 
respected citizens. 

As the relatives approved of our engagement, my 
reception by the family was all that could be desired. 
As to my reception by Miss Wilson, I think it safe 
to leave it to the imagination of my readers. It was 
entirely satisfactory to me. 

My visit was of necessity a short one. For though 
I was not again to see Miss Wilson until the time of 
our marriage, a full year away, I had to return to 
New York after a few days and look after my busi- 
ness interests, which required constant personal at- 
tention. 

The days of my visit flew speedily, and back in 
New York I settled down to business with increased 
ambition and the greatest possible incentive to 
achieve success. 


CHAPTER V 


WEDDING BELLS 

The year in which the days had been as weeks, the 
weeks as months, had finally come to an end, and at 
six o’clock on the evening of Saturday, October 19th, 
1872, I started on my thirty-six hours’ journey to 
Chicago. 

There was no twentieth Century Limited,” mak- 
ing the trip in twenty hours, in those days, and my 
two nights and a day on the road gave me ample 
time for contemplation, which I was in a mood to 
avail myself of. I felt all the eagerness of youth, 
the power of a love that stirred my whole being, and 
was impressed with the solemnity of the obligation 
I was about to incur. 

The life of a lovely woman was to be intrusted to 
me, to make or to mar according as I did my duty. 

I passed many hours, as the train rolled on, mile 
after mile, mentally reviewing the past, looking at 
the present, and planning for the future. 

My year of correspondence with my wife-to-be had 


46 


Wedding Bells 


increased the strength of my affection, and to its 
growth there seemed no end. In a worldly way I 
had prospered, accumulating five thousand dollars, 
while my income from my business was, so far as I 
could see, making a steady and gratifying increase. 
My health was perfect, I had not a care in the world, 
and when I arrived in Chicago Monday morning my 
happiness was complete. No, not quite; but it was 
a few minutes later, when I arrived at the home of 
my bride on Michigan avenue. 

I remained a guest there until Tuesday, and then 
visited my married sister, who resided in a suburb 
of Chicago. 

Wednesday was one of those glorious October days 
when, with a clear sky, the temperature is low enough 
tc make the air bracing without being too cold. I 
was at the Michigan avenue home early, and after a 
few minutes with Miss Wilson, walking through the 
rooms, admiring the floral decorations, I was de- 
serted, and felt myself for the time being as rather 
“a fifth wheel to a coach.” 

The bride was in the hands of her girl friends, 
everybody was busy with the final preparations, and 
I wandered around, wishing that the agony was over 
and I had my wife to myself. 

At last the hour arrived. 

Preceded by Miss Wilson’s little nieces as flower- 
girls, we entered the crowded rooms, and in a few 
minutes the clergyman had pronounced us man and 
wife. 


Wedding Bells 


47 


As I am not writing for a society paper or fashion 
journal, I will not attempt to describe the gown 
worn by the bride. It was very handsome, no doubt. 

But the woman who wore it ! Ah, there was a sub- 
ject for the pen of a poet, the brush of an artist. 
Certainly I have never seen any creature half so 
lovely ; and as I looked into those eyes, beaming with 
love, trust, confidence — everything that a noble 
woman could give to the man she loved — I thanked 
my God for the inestimable blessing He had be- 
stowed upon me. 

I have made many mistakes in my life, most men 
have, and I have done many things the wisdom of 
wjiich was afterwards proven; but as I write these 
lines, looking back over more than thirty-two years 
of married life, I know that my marriage is the one 
act of my whole career that stands pre-eminent as 
the wisest and best thing that I have ever done. 

In all these years my wife and I have been as one. 
In days of prosperity she rejoiced with me, in times 
of adversity and bitter trials she has stood nobly by 
me, always with absolute faith in and unswerving 
loyalty to the man to whom she gave her heart. 

Her love, courage, and cheerfulness have been the 
mainstays which supported me when I would have 
fallen by the wayside, and her sweet companionship 
and keen appreciation of refined pleasures have added 
immeasurably to my enjoyment and happiness. 

After a two-hour reception we donned our travel- 
ing garb and made a race for the carriage, submit- 


48 


Wedding Bells 


ting good-naturedly to the usual shower of rice and 
slippers. 

We were to take the five o’clock train going East, 
and the Judge rode with us to the station. When the 
last farewell had been said while standing on the 
platform of the car as the train pulled out from the 
station, we sought our drawing-room in the Pull- 
man and, closing the door, I clasped my wife to my 
heart. 

It was the first moment we had been alone since 
the ceremony. 

Our wedding-trip was necessarily brief, as I had 
to get back to my business; so after a day or two 
each at Toledo and Albany, the early part of the fol- 
lowing week found us in New York. 

Like all young people on their wedding-trip, we 
tried to fool the public into believing that we were 
not bride and groom ; but I have no doubt that if we 
fooled anybody, that individual must have been very 
near-sighted and minus eyeglasses. 

My wife possibly maintained her dignity, but I 
fear I was too happy to be suppressed. 

I remember well the peculiar way in which the 
clerk at the Boody House, Toledo, looked at me when 
1 registered. As I was not yet twenyt-two years of 
age, I could hardly have expected him to take us for 
“old married folks.” 

Before leaving for Chicago I had engaged an 
apartment and board with a very pleasant and re- 


Wedding Bells 


49 


fined family in Fort Greene Place, Brooklyn, and it 
was there we commenced our married life. 

It was my custom to walk to Wall Street Ferry 
each morning on my way to the office, and whenever 
the weather was suitable my wife accompanied me 
to within a block or two of the ferry. 

In the afternoon I was always home at the earliest 
possible moment. 

I begrudged every hour that we were parted. 

Each day I discovered something new to admire, 
some trait of character, some mental attribute, or a 
dainty mannerism that was simply captivating. 

Thus were our lives developing day after day. 

In the evenings we had frequent callers, and while 
I was always the gracious host to my friends, I was 
selfish enough to wish, at times, that we could live on 
an island by ourselves, where we could remain un- 
disturbed. 

It is said “there is nothing half so sweet in life as 
love’s young dream.” I have found something far 
sweeter, as this narrative in its natural progression 
will develop; but those were my days of “love’s 
young dream.” 

I was proud of my wife, proud of the admiration 
she commanded from our friends, but I wanted her 
all to myself. 

Our Sundays were looked forward to with eager- 
ness. We attended church service in the morning, 
and the afternoons were passed in our apartment in 
delightful intercourse. 


50 


Wedding Bells 


There was never a dull moment. 

Sunday evening supper, which to me has always 
been a most attractive meal, was usually taken either 
with my family or at Mr. Sherman’s. Occasionally 
we would attend an evening service, but as a rule 
we would get home early and have a few hours to 
ourselves. 

Our year of separation while engaged had to be 
atoned for. 

We were lovers the first year of our wedded life, 
and after all these years we are, no less ardently, 
lovers still. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE FIRST REVERSE OF FORTUNE 

The Christmas holidays of 1872 were at hand and 
I was in full spirit with the festivities of the season. 

My home life was a constant revelation of delight 
and happiness. 

The income from my business had increased to 
double that of the previous year, and the future 
looked bright, indeed. 

Just at this time came to me in an evil hour a 
temptation to which I yielded, and I have always 
wondered how, under all the conditions then exist- 
ing, I could have been so weak. 

My accumulations had not been invested, and as I 
had in my business no use for capital, the money re- 
mained idle in bank. 

Crossing the ferry one morning, I was joined by a 
friend in the employ of a Stock Exchange firm, then 
well known, but since retired from business. 

I had been thinking of an investment and spoke 
to him on the subject, telling him the amount of 
money I had to invest. I had in mind the buying of 
some good bonds. 


52 


The First Reverse of Fortune 


My friend, who was a most plausible talker, had, 
I understood, made considerable money in Wall 
Street, and when he told me of a movement in cer- 
tain stocks then being manipulated for a rise, 
through his office, I was at first interested and then 
carried away with the desire to enter what seemed 
such an easy road to wealth. 

He told me of several instances where the invest- 
ment of a few thousands had resulted in enormous 
profits. These stories usually get to public knowl- 
edge one way or another, but the other side, the vast- 
ly greater number of cases where ruin and often 
worse follows, one does not hear so much of. 

Before I went home that day I had bought five 
hundred shares of stock and had deposited as a mar- 
gin five thousand dollars. I was told that the mar- 
gin would surely be ample to carry the stock through 
any possible fluctuations, that I was not to feel 
alarmed if I saw the price go off a point or two, and 
that I was certain to see a twenty-point rise within 
a few weeks. 

On my way home that afternoon I, for the first 
time in my life, read in the paper closing prices at 
the Stock Exchange before reading anything else. 

My stock was up half a point above the price I 
paid, and I experienced a feeling of jubilation that 
was very pleasant. I saw in my mind my five thou- 
sand dollars transformed into fifteen thousand. 

It was great! 

At first I thought I would tell my wife about it, 


The First Reverse of Fortune 


53 


then decided not to do so, but to wait and surprise 
her with the good news when the money was made. 

Fatal mistake ! 

Had I told my wife, as I should have done, she 
would surely have advised me to sell out the first 
thing the following morning and to let speculation 
entirely alone. 

The following day the price receded a full point. 
Then for a week, without any reaction, I watched 
it decline daily, by fractions, until my margin was 
more than half exhausted. 

My wife readily discovered there was something 
worrying me, though I tried to conceal it, and in her 
sweet, loving way urged me to tell her of my trouble. 
I put her off from day to day, hoping for a change 
for the better. 

Finally, when the price of the stock had reached 
a point where there was hardly anything left of my 
five thousand dollars, the brokers notified me I must 
make a further deposit or they would have to sell 
me out. I could have borrowed the money, but I 
would not do it, so the transaction was closed and 
my money lost. 

As a matter of fact, which only goes to show what 
seems to the small speculator the infernal ingenuity 
of the stock market, the stock reacted almost imme- 
diately after I sold, and had I held on for another 
two or three weeks, not only would I have saved my 
money, but would have made, in addition, a very 
handsome profit. 


54 


The First Reverse of Fortune 


Well, the money was gone — and now came the 
hardest part of it. I had to tell my wife. I felt that 
I had wronged her confidence in not telling her from 
the first, and this feeling hurt me far more than the 
loss of the money. 

After dinner that evening, fortunately we were 
spared from callers, sitting on the lounge with my 
arm around her, I told her all. How practically all 
I had in the world was gone, through an act of fool- 
ishness I should never have committed. 

Then I told her of the feeling that overwhelmed 
me because I had not informed her of the matter 
from the first. While I talked, her little hand sought 
mine and from the frequent pressure I knew she was 
listening with a heart full of loving sympathy. 

When I had finished she raised her head and, 
after kissing me fondly, said with a glorious smile : 

“Why, my darling, is that all? I thought it was 
something terrible. What do we care for the loss of 
a little money? We have each other and our love. 
That is everything.” 

Then in the sunshine of that love my naturally 
good spirits returned and my trouble was forgotten 
in the joy over this new insight into the character of 
my wife. 

With determination I resolved that I would devote 
myself closer than ever to my business, and set for 
myself the task of accumulating another five thou- 
sand dollars within a year. 

During 1872 I had made about seven thousand 


The First Reverse of Fortune 


55 


dollars, but now nearly five thousand dollars was 
represented by experience. 

The other fellow had the money. 

The holidays had come and gone. We enjoyed 
them in spite of our recent reverse. 

We did not spend very much money, though we 
had just as good a time as if we had done so. I had 
entirely recovered my mental equilibrium and had 
put out of my mind all thought of my financial loss. 

Life was moving on in the same delightful chan 
nel. Love was our bark, and we sailed smoothly, a$ 
on a summer sea. 

My business during the early months of the yeai 
was good, but in April signs were not wanting of a 
general falling off in the commerce of the entire 
country. 

My trade began to feel the effect of the approach 
ing “hard times.” This did not disturb me at first 
for I did not think it would last long, and in any 
event thought I could safely count on at least as 
good a business as in the year previous. 

At this period it became evident to me that my 
father was breaking down, and that while he might 
accomplish a little toward the support of his family, 
it was not to be depended on, and the burden must 
rest on me. 

It came at a bad time, but I accepted it as a duty 
which it was my pleasure to perform so far as I was 
able. 


56 


The First Reverse of Fortune 


Under these conditions we decided to give up our 
apartment and take up our residence with my par- 
ents. They, as also my sisters, were very fond of 
my wife and she of them, while I was always, from 
infancy, accused of being the pet of the family. 

As the summer months progressed I realized that 
beyond a doubt the hard times were upon us. My 
customers were buying nothing and complaining 
there was not enough business doing to use up the 
stock of material they had on hand. 

My savings of the first quarter of the year began 
to dwindle, and in those days I thought often with 
regret of my lost five thousand dollars. 

My wife, always the same bright, cheerful, loving 
woman, encouraged me to keep up my spirits, and I 
did, for her sake as well as my own. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE COMING OF THE STORK 

By the first of November I had exhausted all my 
savings, and from then on knew that if my monthly 
earnings were insufficient to pay my expenses, I 
should have to resort to borrowing money to tide me 
over until better times. 

A crisis was coming at home that demanded every 
effort of mine to have matters there pleasant and 
comfortable. Under no circumstances must my wife 
worry. 

Thus I thought, but even yet I did not know the 
magnificent courage of the woman. 

Each evening when I returned home she greeted 
me with the brightest of smiles, and as soon as din- 
ner was over, in our own room, with arms around 
her, she insisted on knowing the history of the day 
in detail. 

She grasped the situation thoroughly, caressed 
and encouraged me, always asserting that every- 
thing would come out right in the end. She had no 
fear and did not worry. 

On the nineteenth of November our child was 
born. 


58 


The Coming of the Stork 


A boy physically perfect. That his lungs were all 
right I personally could swear to, and what sweet 
music his crying was to my ears when first I heard it. 

A little later I was permitted to enter the room, 
and did so in great agitation. 

As I kissed my wife and held her hand a few min- 
utes, on her face, more lovely than ever in her moth- 
erhood, was the same sweet smile and an expression 
of devotion and love eternal. I looked at the boy, 
the new rivet in the chain of love that bound us to- 
gether, and then, after another kiss, went quietly 
from the room. 

Heroes, ancient and modern, the world has devel- 
oped. Heroines also have their place in history, but 
the heroism of a woman in ordinary life, in trials 
physical and mental, is something to be regarded 
with awe and reverence. 

Our wives! Our mothers! Heroines, all. 

The mother recovered quickly her normal state of 
health and the boy thrived and grew rapidly. 

In March, 1874, I was greatly encouraged by a 
slight improvement in business. I had been through 
a terribly hard winter and, with the burden of the 
household on my shoulders, had only just succeeded, 
by the utmost prudence, in making both ends meet. 
With absolutely no surplus, I could not but feel un- 
easy most of the time. 

It was while this was the condition of my finances 
that my most intimate friend, the son of a man of 
some means, approached me on the subject of getting 


The Coming of the Stork 


59 


his brother, then in Europe, but soon to return, into 
business. 

I knew his brother, but not intimately. I thought 
he might make a good business man, and it occurred 
to me that if he was a hard worker and his father 
was willing to buy him an interest in my business, 
I might get efficient aid to my efforts and at the 
same time get a cash surplus to relieve my mind of 
financial worry, which I knew to be very desirable; 
for a man who has to worry about the small ex- 
penses of living can never do himself full justice in 
his business efforts. 

Another point that induced me to consider the 
matter was the desire of my wife and myself to go 
to housekeeping. 

The relations with my parents and sisters were 
most pleasant, but now that we had our boy we felt 
anxious to set up a modest little establishment of 
our own, and indeed my mother advised it, though 
she was sorry to have us leave her. 

After several interviews with Mr. Allis we came 
to an agreement that as soon as his son Thomas 
arrived from Europe I was to take him into part- 
nership on equal terms and he was to pay me a 
bonus of three thousand dollars. 

A couple of weeks later my sign again came down 
and a new one went up, reading W. E. Stowe & Co. 

With three thousand dollars in the bank, my mind 
was again at ease and we immediately looked for our 
new home. 


60 


The Coming of the Stork 


We were offered a very prettily furnished, nicely 
located house, a few blocks from my mother’s, for 
the summer at a very low rent. We decided to take 
it and not look up a permanent home until fall. 

Our housekeeping that summer was a delightful 
experience, and we knew we should never again be 
satisfied to board. We were fortunate in getting a 
good maid, the boy kept well, we had a cool summer, 
business was fairly good and we had soon forgotten 
the hard times of the previous winter. 

Of course, we were prudent in our expenditures, 
but we lived and did a little entertaining. 

In October we rented and furnished tastefully but 
inexpensively a three-story and basement house, one 
of a new row in a pleasant street, not far from the 
residence of Mr. Sherman. 

While we did not own the house, the fact that the 
contents belonged to us gave us a sense of proprie- 
torship that we had not felt in the house we had 
recently vacated. 

We had enjoyed greatly our shopping for the fur- 
nishings and felt very happy in our new home amidst 
our household gods. 

Our efficient maid was devoted to our boy and to 
her mistress. The housekeeping ran smoothly, and, 
although we already began to talk of the day when 
we should own our home and of what that home 
should be, we were entirely contented and happy. 

As the winter approached I began to suffer, slight- 
ly at first, with muscular rheumatism. Not since 


The Coming of the Stork 


61 


the days of childhood, when I had gone through the 
usual category of children’s diseases, had I been 
really ill. I always had suffered to some extent with 
neuralgic headaches, inherited, no doubt, from my 
mother, who was a great sufferer, and with the ad- 
vent of the rheumatism these headaches became more 
frequent and severe. 

I did not regard the trouble seriously and I so 
enjoyed the fond nursing and petting of my wife that 
the pain brought its own recompense. It soon be- 
came evident, however, that I required medical at- 
tention. 

First one and then another physician was called 
upon without getting relief, the attack recurring at 
shorter intervals, and each time seemingly more 
severe. I stood it through the winter, though suf- 
fering greatly, and with the warmer weather my 
health improved. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE NEW PARTNER 

Tom Allis, my new partner, was one of the most 
peculiar men I have ever met. In social life he was 
affable and self-possessed, but in his business inter- 
course exhibited confusion and a shyness that was 
simply amazing. 

Actually and in appearance he was about my age, 
while in his manner he was a bashful boy of seven- 
teen. It was impossible for him to talk without 
blushing and appearing extremely embarrassed. 

As I had only met him socially, this phase was a 
revelation to me. I tried to get him out amongst 
the trade, thinking that after he had become well 
acquainted his embarrassment would be overcome, 
or at least partially so. My efforts in this direction 
failed and he settled down to a routine office man, 
and, while he looked after that end of the business 
satisfactorily, I could easily have found a clerk at 
fifteen dollars per week to do as well. 

This was disappointing, but I hoped that as he 
gained experience his services would be of greater 


The New Partner 


63 


value to the firm. Meanwhile, I let him relieve me 
entirely of the office work. 

Tom had been with me only a few months when he 
came to me for advice in a matter in which he felt 
he had become involved. 

It appeared he had been calling regularly on a 
young lady, a pretty little French girl. I had met 
her but once, and then was impressed with the idea 
that she had a temper which it would be unpleasant 
to arouse, though I may have done her an injustice. 

At all events, Tom said he thought the girl was 
in love with him; that probably he had given her 
reason to believe his attentions were serious, and he 
saw no honorable way out except to ask her to be 
his wife. 

I saw that the boy, so he seemed to me, was really 
very much disturbed. I told him before I could 
offer any advice I must know every detail, and after 
learning that not one word of love had ever passed 
between them, that their intercourse was really noth- 
ing more than that of intimate friends, and he as- 
suring me that he had not a particle of love for the 
girl, I advised him strongly to give up any idea of 
offering her marriage and to gently but firmly break 
off the intimacy. 

He accepted the advice gratefully and acted on it. 

A few years later he married the girl, and I pre- 
sume that he told her of my share in this matter. 
She probably held me responsible and no doubt in- 
fluenced him to some extent in a course of action, 


64 


The New Partner 


referred to farther on in this narrative, that I have 
always regarded with regret. 

It is a thankless task to advise one in such mat- 
ters, even though the one be your friend. 

Business continued to improve slowly, but at the 
end of the year my partner had drawn as his share 
of the profits for the eight months he had been with 
me twenty-two hundred dollars. 

He was more than satisfied, and well he might be. 

During the winter of 1874 and ’75 I had another 
and more trying siege of rheumatism. As in the 
previous spring, with the advent of warmer weather 
I found relief, but I knew the disease had become 
chronic and it worried me. 

This worry, however, I soon dismissed from my 
mind to make room for one more formidable and 
pressing. 

Hard times were coming again and there were two 
now to divide the profits. 

The furnishing of our home had absorbed a good 
portion of the three thousand dollars I had received 
from my partner, and my livng expenses, together 
with what it was necessary for me to do toward the 
support of my parents and sisters, exhausted my in- 
come. 

My always-cheerful and devoted wife, and my boy, 
just arriving at an interesting age, made home 
so attractive that I was able to forget business when 
away from the office. 

Each morning with the parting caress came words 


The New Partner 


65 


of loving encouragement that did much to support 
me through the day, and at night on my return 
home, my greeting from wife and boy always dis- 
pelled the clouds hanging over me. 

I w T as happy, infinitely so, despite the business 
worry. 

My physicians had advised my leaving Brooklyn 
for a dryer atmosphere. 

We had a lease of our house until the spring of 
1876, but had decided that then we would try coun- 
try life. 

Many hours were passed pleasantly in discussing 
the plan and its probable results. My wife’s fertile 
brain would paint to me in pleasing colors what the 
country home should be — the cottage and its cozi- 
ness, the garden, the lawn and flowers, my health 
restored, the benefit of country life to the boy, and 
the relief to my mind through largely reduced living 
expenses. 

We were eager for the time to come to make the 
change. 

On the twelfth of December our second child was 
born. My first boy had a brother, and again my 
wife, noble woman, gave testimony of her great love. 

No trials that came to her prevented the outpour- 
ing of that love to me. 

She knew how I needed her fond encouragement, 
particularly at that period, and she gave it to me 
daily, always with the same sweet smile and tender 
caress. 


66 


The New Partner 


That winter will never be forgotten by me for the 
torture which I suffered from the almost nightly 
attacks of that awful rheumatism. Medicine did not 
seem of any use. 

Night after night until long past midnight my de- 
voted wife, with ceaseless energy, would apply every 
few moments hot applications to relieve the cruel 
pain, until finally I would fall asleep for a few hours’ 
rest. 

I lost weight rapidly, and when spring came was 
hardly more than a semblance of my former self. 

It was indeed time that I should shake the dust of 
Brooklyn from my feet. 

Before the winter was over we had commenced to 
scan the advertising columns of the daily papers for 
“country places to rent.” We wanted, if possible, to 
get a place in the mountainous section of New Jer- 
sey. I wanted to get away from air off the salt 
water, and this section of the country seemed the 
best. 

It must be healthy and at a low rent. For the 
rest we must take what we could get at the price we 
could pay. 

Our search ended in our taking a place of about 
six acres, five minutes’ walk from a station on the 
Morris and Essex Eailroad, between Summit and 
Morristown. 

On the property was a farm house more than one 
hundred years old, and this the owner repaired and 


The New Partner 


67 


improved by building an extra room and a piazza 
across the front of the house. 

The rent was two hundred dollars a year. We 
moved there early in April. The last night in the 
Brooklyn house I had one of my worst attacks of 
rheumatism. I have never had the slightest twinge 
of it since. 

Blessed be New Jersey! 


CHAPTER IX 

SUBURBAN LIFE 

We had been in our new home but a few days 
before we were quite in accord with the sentiment 
that “God made the country and man made the 
town.” 

The house in its exterior was the ordinary, old- 
fashioned, one-and-a-half-story farmhouse, improved 
by a piazza ; but the interior, under the deft hands 
and good taste of my wife, had an appearance both 
home-like and cozy that was very attractive. 

We had to get accustomed to the low ceilings, 
only seven feet high; but this did not distress us, 
though in our parlor, a room twenty-eight feet long, 
the effect was always peculiar. 

The grounds around the house were not laid out. 
It was simply a case of a house set on a little eleva- 
tion, in the center of a rather rough lawn, and with 
out a path or a flower bed, no shrubs and but few 
trees. 

I hired a man with plow and horse for a day or 
two, and we made a path from the piazza to the 
road, set out an arbor-vitse hedge, made two or three 


Suburban Life 


69 


small flower beds, and had the kitchen garden 
ploughed. 

The man planted the potatoes and corn in a field 
next the garden, but the kitchen garden was my 
hobby, and with all the enthusiasm of a child with a 
new toy I took personal possession of it. 

About an acre in extent, fenced and almost en- 
tirely free from even small stones, the soil was rich 
and productive. I met with wonderful success, and 
the crops that I raised, in their earliness and size, 
astonished the natives. 

Every pleasant morning I was up at five o’clock, 
and after a bowl of crackers and milk, worked for 
two or three hours. Then a bath, followed by break- 
fast, and after a day in town, which, owing to dull 
business, I made very short, I was back in the after- 
noon at work again. 

How I did enjoy those days ! 

In the early stages my wife used to laugh at me 
for digging up the seed to see if it had sprouted, so 
impatient was I to see the growing plants. 

We had an ice-house, filled for us by the owner 
without charge, and in melon season I picked the 
melons in the morning and left them in the ice-house 
all day. 

My mouth waters at the thought of those delicious 
melons. 

The fact that I raised everything myself, practi- 
cally by my own labor, added greatly to our enjoy- 
ment in the eating. 


70 


Suburban Life 


The walk between house and station was for most 
of the distance through a private lane which was in 
part shaded by large trees. 

The quaint old village, one of the oldest in the 
State, was interesting ; but not so the people, at least 
to us. It was a farming community, and of social 
life there was none. 

Still, we felt that no privation. We had found 
what we sought — a pleasant, comfortable home, my 
return to good health, and economical living. 

During the first year of our residence in the coun- 
try our entire expenditure was but thirteen hundred 
dollars, which was fully three thousand dollars less 
than the year previous. 

A few of our most intimate friends were invited 
occasionally for visits of a few days, and these little 
visits we always enjoyed; but to each other my wife 
and I were all-sufficient, and in the dear little home 
there was never a feeling of loneliness. 

It was truly “love in a cottage.” 

During the summer, about once a week, I would 
hire from a farmer a horse and rockaway, and with 
wife and babies take a drive, our favorite ride having 
as an objective point a visit to the old Ford man- 
sion, Washington’s headquarters at Morristown. 

There is certainly no section of country in the 
vicinity of New York city that can compare in nat- 
ural beauty with Morris County, New Jersey, and 
we commanded the best of this, in rather antiquated 


Suburban Life 


71 


style of equipage to be sure, but at the small cost of 
half a dollar for “all the afternoon.” 

Thinking of that old carriage recalls to mind an 
incident of later years which so impressed me I shall 
never forget it: 

With my wife I was spending a few days at Old 
Point Comfort, and while we were there John Jacob 
Astor and his bride arrived, on their wedding tour. 

The hack service at the Point at that time was 
about the worst imaginable. The hotel had none, 
and a few old negroes with disreputable “foh de 
wall” vehicles and horses that could only get over 
the poor roads by constant urging, picked up a few 
dollars by driving guests of the hotel to the Hamp- 
ton School. 

One afternoon when there were just two of these 
hacks standing in front of the hotel, I engaged the 
better one. 

As a matter of fact, the only difference I could 
see was that the one I selected had been washed 
probably at least once that season, whereas the other 
appeared to be plastered with the dried mud of ages. 

We drove to the school, and on our return met the 
other hack on its way there. 

The hackman had disappeared, and in his place, 
driving positively the worst-looking turnout I ever 
saw, was John Jacob Astor with his bride sitting 
beside him. 

The spectacle of that man, with his social position 
and his enormous wealth, driving under such condi- 


72 


Suburban Life 


tions, struck me first as ludicrous and then as a liv- 
ing example of the great leveling power that in the 
end makes all men equal regardless of wealth or 
position. 

My boys were thriving in the country air, living 
out of doors most of the day. With only one maid, 
my wife had no difficulty in keeping busy while I 
was in town, and the summer passed quickly and 
pleasantly. 


CHAPTER X 


MY PARTNER RETIRES 

Matters at the office had been going badly for many 
months, and any improvement in prospect was too 
far distant to be discerned. 

My partner was absolutely useless to me except 
as a clerk, and indeed a good clerk would have been 
better, for I could have commanded him to do things 
that I could only request of my partner, and I had 
long since learned that these requests carried no 
weight unless they were in the line of duty that was 
agreeable to him. 

On first taking up my residence in the country I 
felt it necessary, in consequence of poor health, to 
remain at home a day or two each week, but I soon 
had to abandon this custom, for on such days there 
was nothing accomplished. 

Orders by mail and wire which should have had 
immediate attention were held over until the follow- 
ing day, and this, of course, could not be permitted 
without jeopardizing the business. 

When I would ask Tom why he had not been out 
in the trade instead of remaining at his desk all day, 


74 


My Partner Retires 


the only satisfaction I could get was his statement 
that the trade treated him as a boy and he did not 
like it. 

I knew but too well that the trade sized him up 
about right. 

He meant well enough, but it simply wasn’t in 
him to assert himself. 

He had been with me a little over two years and 
during that time his share of the profits had re- 
turned him the three thousand dollars he had in- 
vested and in addition paid him what would have 
been a good salary for the services rendered. 

As he was unmarried and lived with his parents, 
paying no board, a very small business would give 
him an income sufficient for his requirements, and 
apparently he was contented to let matters go on as 
they were. 

What might be considered easy times for him, 
with no responsibilities, was for me, with a wife and 
two children, parents and two sisters to provide for, 
an impossible proposition. 

Something had to be done to change the status. 

I waited until the first of September in hopes of 
some sign of better times, but business looked worse 
rather than better, and I decided to make him an 
offer for his interest. I thought best to put this in 
writing, and while doing so went fully into our 
affairs and endeavored to show him how impossible 
it was for me to go on any longer under existing con- 
ditions. Incidentally I emphasized the fact that 


My Partner Retires 


75 


after more than two years’ experience he was still 
unable to accomplish anything that could not be 
done by a clerk. 

Then I made him an offer of two thousand dollars 
to be paid in monthly instalments of fifty dollars 
each, without interest, the first payment to be made 
in January. For these payments I offered him my 
notes. 

I had written this on Saturday morning, and, hav- 
ing finished while he was at luncheon, laid it on 
his desk and took my usual train home, which gave 
him an opportunity to think the matter over until 
Monday. 

When we met on Monday morning I was not sur- 
prised to find him in a bad temper. 

He said at once that he declined my offer, and 
having paid his money to come into the concern, he 
proposed to stay. 

I told him I was sorry I could not see my way 
clear to make any better offer, and it was that or 
nothing. If he would not accept it, then the only 
alternative was for me to step out and leave him the 
business. 

This suggestion startled him. He knew he could 
not carry on the business without me. 

After going to his father’s office for consultation, 
he returned and said he had decided to accept my 
offer. “As to those notes,” he said, “you may give 
them to me if you like, but I don’t suppose you will 
ever pay them.” 


76 


My Partner Retires 


We terminated our partnership that day, but I 
continued the business under the same style, W. E. 
Stowe & Co., complying with the legal requirements 
governing such action. 

While Allis was my partner, on more than one oc- 
casion, when we were discussing the wretched state 
of business, he would call himself a “ Jonah,” and in 
the light of later developments it really looked as if 
such was the fact. 

When we separated, unquestionably the outlook 
was most gloomy. I could not see a ray of light 
ahead, and without the constant encouragement of 
my wife, who always insisted that brighter days 
were in store for us, I might have given up the ship. 

Before I had been alone a month an improvement 
was perceptible, in another month it was more de- 
cided, and by the end of the year there was no longer 
any doubt that an era of good times was approach- 
ing. 

Those notes for two thousand dollars given Allis 
and which he thought I would never pay, carried no 
interest. There was no reason I should anticipate 
the payments if I did not wish to. Probably he would 
have been glad to have me discount them. I had 
forty months in which to pay them. I paid them all 
in full within six months. 

I thought he would appreciate my doing so. Quite 
the contrary. 

Of course my prepayment so far in advance of ma- 
turity was evidence of my prosperity. 


My Partner Retires 


77 


He, in his small soul, could not but believe I knew 
this prosperity was coming and bad forced him out 
of the firm just in advance of its arrival. I met him 
in the street frequently and noticed the change in 
his manner. A few weeks later be did not return my 
bow and we have since been strangers. 

When I heard shortly after of bis engagement to 
the little French girl, I concluded that his envy of 
my success and her prejudice for my share in the 
temporary cessation of his intimacy with her had 
cost me a friend. And yet it surely was through no 
fault of mine. 


CHAPTER XI 

A YEAR OF SUNSHINE 

The year 1878 was to me a memorable one. 

The improvement in business the previous year 
had been sufficient to enable me to pay my indebted- 
ness to Allis, meet all my current expenses and enter 
the new year with a good balance in bank. 

My health had become entirely restored and, with 
mind free from worry, life was indeed well worth the 
living. The home life, happy under adverse circum- 
stances, was of course made more enjoyable by my 
improved financial condition. 

The little rivulet of prosperity of 1877 broadened 
in 1878 to a stream, small at first, but ever widening 
and leading on to the sea. 

On the second of July there was born to us our 
first daughter. 

My wife and myself were delighted with this latest 
arrival from love-land. We had looked forward 
with fond anticipation to the event, and our hearts’ 
desire was that a daughter should be added to the 
family circle. The blessing had come to us and we 
were grateful. 

What shall I say of the mother of that little 
daughter? 


A Year of Sunshine 


79 


What can I say that would do justice to her love 
and devotion? 

It is said “there is no love like a mother’s love.” 
True, but with all reverence to my own sainted 
mother, there is another love that has come to me, 
the love of a wife for her husband, that I cannot but 
maintain is the greatest of all. 

How completely that little baby girl ruled the 
household was soon in evidence. For the time being 
she was queen and we her loyal subjects, anxious to 
do her honor. The little brothers were more than 
pleased to have a sister and rivaled each other in 
their efforts to entertain her. 

The mother was proud of her girl and I — well, to 
tell the truth, I was deeply in love with the entire 
family. 

Our lease of the place had expired in April, but I 
arranged to keep it until the first of October. 

We felt warranted, in our improved circumstances, 
in seeking a better home, amidst refined surround- 
ings, and had concluded to make a change in the 
fall. We did not want to give up country life. My 
wife and I enjoyed it and we knew it was best for the 
children. Our desire was for a house with modern 
conveniences, neighbors, pleasant, cultured people, 
whose society we could enjoy. 

On my trips to and from the city I had observed 
from the car window a section of country not far 
from where we were then residing, and as the few 
houses I could see were modern, the elevation high 


80 


A Year of Sunshine 


and beautifully wooded, we thought it worth while 
to investigate. 

With my wife I drove there one afternoon and we 
were both surprised and delighted at what we saw. 

A gentleman of wealth had purchased many hun- 
dreds of acres of land and, after building for himself 
a handsome home, had commenced development of 
the property for residences of the better class. 

There was nothing of the cheap real estate scheme 
about the place. The owner would sell or rent only 
to such people as he deemed desirable. 

Although the water supply and sewerage system 
had been established, miles of roads built, a hand- 
some railroad station erected and a large casino in 
course of erection, there were at that time but six 
houses completed. 

Knollwood was to be a park, and as a unique fea- 
ture no two houses were to be alike. How successful 
it has been is shown by the fact that today there is 
no more beautiful or flourishing residential park in 
the vicinity of New York. 

As a result of our visit to the property an ar- 
rangement was made for a house to be built for us on 
a lease of three years, and we were permitted to se- 
lect the plans of the house, its site and the interior 
decorations. Work was to commence at once and 
possession given us in April, 1879. 

Not wishing to spend another winter where we 
were, we returned to Brooklyn and remained with 
my parents until the new house was completed. 

When we commenced our packing preparatory to 


A Year of Sunshine 


81 


leaving the little farm, as we called it, there was a 
feeling akin to homesickness. 

We had been very happy and great blessings had 
come to us while there. The dear little baby girl, 
my health, prosperity in worldly affairs — all this 
and the thought of how the place had been a sort of 
lovers’ retreat, where I had my wife all to myself 
most of the time, made the homely old farmhouse 
seem something sacred. 

We could not but feel a little sentimental over it 
all. 

The garden, the arbor-vitse hedge, planted with 
my own hands, and now tall and almost impene- 
trable, the playhouse which I built in the orchard 
for the children, all had to be visited with a feeling 
of saying good-by to old friends. 

There was hardly a summer for years after that 
we did not at least once drive down the old lane and 
look over the place where our country life had com- 
menced, and I shall have for it always a tender spot 
in my memory. 

When, at the end of the year, the books were 
closed at the office, I was pleased to find that I had 
made a little over twelve thousand dollars. 

It had taken me eight years to catch up to the 
point where Mr. Derham left off, but I had finally 
succeeded. 

As I was but twenty-eight years of age, I congrat- 
ulated myself with a little self-conceit that was per- 
haps pardonable. 

It had certainly been a hard, up-hill fight. 


CHAPTER XII 


AN IDEAL LIFE 

As the new house was approaching completion, we 
found much pleasure in occasionally going to Knoll- 
wood for an hour or two to look it over. 

Our having selected the plans and site, made it 
seem as if it belonged to us, and our interest in its 
development was great. The kitchen was in the 
basement. On the first floor was a square entrance 
hall opening into parlor, dining-room and library. 
There were four bedrooms and bathroom on second 
floor, and above that a maid’s room and attic. 

While the house was not large, the rooms were all 
of comfortable size. For heating, in addition to the 
furnace, there were several open fireplaces, a great 
desideratum in any house. In its exterior the style 
was something of the Swiss cottage. 

The grounds consisted of about an acre in lawn, 
with a few flower beds and a number of fine trees. 

In April we moved into the new house. Some 
additions had been made to our furnishings, and 
when all was in order we agreed that in our eyes 
there was no other house in the world quite so 
pretty. 




SUNNYSIDE 








An Ideal Life 


85 


It was a case of “contentment is wealth,” and we 
were perfectly contented. 

Of course we must have a name for the place. 
Every one does that, in the country, and we were 
not to be the exception. One of our boundary lines 
was a brook and we decided on “Brookside Cottage.” 

The stationery and visiting cards were so engraved 
when, alas, a few weeks later our brook dried up 
and we had to select another name. 

At this time, where the brook had been, a new line 
of sewer was laid, and my wife suggested “Sewer- 
side,” but after punishing her with a kiss for her 
bad pun, I suggested “Sunnyside.” 

The name was adopted, and to this day the place 
has retained it. 

“Sunnyside” was not the only house in Knollwood 
completed that spring. There were several others, 
and when the summer commenced there resided there 
a little community of delightful, congenial people. 
Most of them were of about my age, and with the 
exception of the owner of the park, of moderate 
means. Probably at that time I enjoyed a larger 
income than any of them. 

Wealth cut no figure in that community. We all 
respected each other and met on the same social 
plane, regardless of individual means. 

While we liked them all, we became particularly 
intimate with two of our immediate neighbors, the 
Woods and the Lawtons, who had come to the park 
at the same time as ourselves. 


86 


An Ideal Life 


This intimacy became a strong and close friend- 
ship, so much so that it was very like one family. 
The children of the three families fraternized and 
almost every disengaged evening found the parents 
gathered together in some one of the three houses, 
which were connected by private telphone. 

In its social elements Knollwood was peculiarly 
fortunate. The people were bright and entertain- 
ing. In a number of instances musical talent, both 
vocal and instrumental, was of a high order, and 
there was also a good deal of amateur dramatic 
talent. 

Taking this combination and an inspiration on the 
part of each individual to do what he or she could 
for the entertainment of all, one can readily see that 
much pleasure might be derived in Knollwood so- 
ciety. 

The facilities for making use of the talent we pos- 
sessed were excellent. We had a beautiful casino, 
w T ith a stage well equipped with scenery, and during 
the first four years of our residence there more than 
fifty performances were given, each followed by a 
dance. A country club was organized for outdoor 
sports, and there was something going on contin- 
ually. 

The life at Knollwood in those days was to my 
mind ideal. 

The beauty of the place, its facilities and conven- 
iences are still there, improved and increased. Its 
social life, now on a totally different scale, has ex- 


An Ideal Life 


87 


panded to meet the tastes of the people. With the 
large increase in population came the break in the 
circle. Cliques defining the difference, not in culture 
or refinement, but in wealth, have developed. The 
old charm of every resident my friend, is lacking. 
Gossip, unknown in the early days, showed its ugly 
head in later years. 

It is the way of the world. All struggle to gain 
wealth. Those that succeed, with but few excep- 
tions, sneer at those who are left behind, and what 
does it all amount to in the end? One can enjoy it 
but a few years at most. 

I have in my career come into more or less inti- 
mate contact, socially and in a business way, with 
many men of great wealth. In some instances, where 
the wealth was inherited, the past generation had 
paid the price of its accumulation, but I doubt if any 
of those who have given up the best of their lives in 
the struggle to attain their present position and 
wealth, now that they possess it, get out of it any- 
thing like the degree of happiness and content- 
ment that was in evidence in those early years in 
Knollwood. 

And what has it cost them ? 

Long years of struggle and worry, continual men- 
tal strain that has prevented the full enjoyment of 
home life, a weakened physical condition, old age in 
advance of its time, and more, far more than all this, 
in at least one instance of which I have personal 
knowledge, and I presume there have been many 


88 


An Ideal Life 


others, the disruption of a family that would never 
have occurred had the husband given less time to his 
struggle for wealth and more to the wife whom he 
had vowed to love and cherish. 

She, poor, beautiful woman, left much to herself 
evening after evening while her husband was at his 
club or elsewhere planning with allies his huge busi- 
ness operations, fell a victim to a fiend in the guise 
of a man. 

When that husband looks at his children, deserted 
by their mother, he must think that for his millions 
he has paid a stupendous price. 

Wealth brings with it fashionable life. Of what 
horrors the fashionable life of New York is continu- 
ally giving us examples, the columns of the daily 
papers bear witness. 

Is the “game worth the candle ?” 


CHAPTER XIII 


PROSPEROUS DAYS 

My business in 1879 returned me nearly sixteen 
thousand dollars, a satisfactory increase over the 
previous year. 

My wife and I had become much attached to “Sun- 
nyside,” and as the owner was willing to sell it to 
us for just what it had cost to build, plus one thou- 
sand dollars for the land, we bought it. We then 
spent eleven hundred dollars in improvements, and 
when finished our home had cost us sixty-five hun- 
dred dollars. 

It was certainly a very attractive place for that 
amount of money. To be sure it was only an unpre- 
tentious cottage, but a pretty one, and the interior 
had been so successfully though inexpensively treat- 
ed in decorations and appointments that the general 
effect attracted from our friends universal admira 
tion. 

As our neighbor, Charlie Wood, put it on his first 
inspection, we had succeeded in making a “silk 
purse out of a sow’s ear.” His remark rather grated 
on us, but it was characteristic of the man and we 
knew it was simply his way of paying us a compli- 
ment. 


90 


Prosperous Days 


In January a broker in the trade, not a competitor 
for the reason that he was a specialist in a line that 
I did not cover, gave me a large order, for future 
delivery. 

He told me it was a purchase on speculation for 
himself and another party whom he named, and 
that not only should I have the resale, but they 
would give me one-eighth interest in the transaction. 

Up to that time I had never been interested to 
the extent of a single dollar in the markets in which 
I dealt as a broker, nor had I any speculative clien- 
tele. I was certain the operation would be success- 
ful, provided they did not hold on for too large a 
profit and overstay the market. I accepted the order 
as he offered it, but stipulated that I should have the 
right at any time to close out my interest in the 
deal. 

The purchase was made and a few weeks later, 
long before time for delivery, I found a buyer who 
would pay a clear ten thousand dollars profit. In 
vain I urged them to accept it. Then, with their 
knowledge, I sold my interest and secured my twelve 
hundred and fifty dollars. 

They held on, took delivery at maturity, and fin- 
ally after several months I resold for them at a loss 
of nearly forty thousand dollars. 

In the negotiations I came into personal contact 
only with the broker. The other party was a wealthy 
Hebrew merchant then doing business on Broome 
street. He was at that time supposed to be worth 


Prosperous Days 


91 


possibly a million, and was just getting in touch 
with my line of trade. A few years later he became 
a most important factor, and still later was allied 
with Standard Oil interests. 

At his death in 1902 he left to his heirs many mil- 
lions of dollars. I attended his funeral, and truly 
mourned and respected the man, for while for many 
years we were active business competitors, in the 
days of trouble he was one of the very few ready to 
extend a helping hand. 

In the first three months of 1880, including my 
profit in the transaction just mentioned, I made six 
thousand dollars. I was now in a position where, if 
hard times came, I could accept them with reason- 
able complacency. 

My success had broadened my views and given me 
a keener insight into the possibilities of my business. 
I became convinced that in earning capacity it was 
about at the top-notch. 

There were several features then becoming promi- 
nent that led me to this conclusion. The Standard 
Oil Company had absorbed all the refining concerns 
and had then established its own broker. It paid 
him a salary for his services and he paid to the com- 
pany the brokerages he collected from the sellers. I 
had been doing a large business with the constituent 
companies, which would now cease. The leading 
firm with which my relations had been most intimate 
had taken into its employ as a confidential man my 
most active competitor and I knew his influence 


92 


Prosperous Days 


would work against me to the utmost. New competi- 
tors, young men who had been clerks in the trade, 
were coming into the field. Then a movement look- 
ing to a reduction in the rate of brokerage was being 
agitated. 

I had no doubt about being able to keep up with 
the procession, but it looked to me as if the proces- 
sion would be too slow, and if it w T as to be a funeral 
march I proposed to look on rather than take part. 
I had been through the stages of creeping, then walk- 
ing, and now I wanted to run. 

The problem was before me and I thought I saw 
the solution. 

The business being done by brokers covered sev- 
eral different articles. The most important of these, 
that is, the one on which the most brokerages were 
earned, happened to be the one article that the 
Standard Oil Company was the largest buyer of, 
that the leading firm was most interested in, and 
that the talk of reduced brokerage was aimed at. 

My plan was to drop that entirely and also every- 
thing else except one particular staple commodity 
in which I would be a specialist. I had for two or 
three years done a large business in this and had 
made a profound study of that branch of the trade. 

It was yet in its infancy, but I believed in a rapid 
and important growth. How rapid that growth has 
been is shown by the fact that in 1879 the consump- 
tion in the United States was less than five thousand 


Prosperous Days 


93 


tons. It has increased every year since and is now 
thirty-six thousand tons per year. 

Another point that decided me on the commodity 
I was to handle exclusively was its adaptability to 
speculative operations. In London for many years 
it has been a favorite medium of speculation, and I 
believed I could build up a speculative clientele 
and thereby largely increase my brokerage account. 

As business continued good through the spring 
and early summer, I concluded to delay my action 
until the fall. Each month I was adding to my sur- 
plus, and there was no need for haste. 


CHAPTER XIV 


NEAR THE DARK VALLEY 

It was the middle of July. After a most oppres- 
sively hot and a very busy day in the city, I re- 
turned home with a feeling of weariness that was 
unusual ; my head ached badly. At dinner I ate but 
little and then retired early. My wife petted and 
nursed me until I had fallen asleep. After a restless 
night I was too ill to rise in the morning. 

Our physician was called in and his first diag- 
nosis was nothing serious, but he advised my remain- 
ing at home for a day or two and taking a much- 
needed rest. 

Twenty-four hours later he pronounced my illness 
congestion of the brain. 

Ten years of close application to business, much 
of the time under a great nervous strain and no 
rest, had brought its day of reckoning. 

For nearly three weeks I was confined to my bed. 

My wife, aided by our faithful physician, Doctor 
Burling, who often when I was delirious remained 
with me throughout the night, nursed me with con- 
stant and untiring devotion. While she accepted 
the efficient aid of one of my sisters, she would not 


Near the Dark Valley 


95 


consent to a trained nurse, so long as the doctor 
would advise it only on the ground of relief to her. 

Her love for me was all-absorbing, and no hand 
but hers should administer to my wants. For hours 
at a time she stroked the poor, tired head, until her 
gentle caresses soothed me to brief intervals of rest. 

How she stood the strain, especially when as the 
crisis drew near life seemed slowly but surely ebb- 
ing, I do not know. I never opened my eyes that 
they did not rest on her sweet face, smiling, cheerful, 
her own fears hidden from me that she might give 
me the courage which the doctor said must be main- 
tained. 

Slowly and when it seemed as if the end was nigh, 
the tide turned — the brain cleared, restful sleep 
came, and my life was saved. 

Doctor Burling had done everything that science, 
skill and faithfulness could accomplish, but the 
nurse was the Guardian Angel who brought me out 
of the Dark Valley just as its shadows were closing 
around me. 

My convalescence was slow, but as soon as my 
strength permitted, with my wife I went to Block 
Island for a few weeks. There I gained rapidly. 

We took no part in the hotel amusements, but kept 
to ourseves, spending our days reading and chatting 
on the shore in the shade of the bluffs and retiring 
early for long, restful sleep at night. 

Block Island is a beautiful spot and we enjoyed 
our visit there greatly. It is to be expected that at 


96 


Near the Dark Valley 


a summer hotel in the height of the season, if a 
young couple go off day after day by themselves, 
never mingling with the other guests nor participat- 
ing in their pleasures, that some comment would be 
excited, but we were much amused when, the day 
before we left for home, the major-domo came to us 
and said, “I understand you are going to leave us to- 
morrow and I want to tell you, before you go, that 
the people in the house call you the model bridal 
couple of the season” — and we had three chidren at 
home! 

On my return to the office early in September I 
found it was time for me to perfect my plans for the 
contemplated change in my business. During my 
absence very little money had been made. My clerk, 
I at that time employed but one, had done his best, 
but as my business was a personal one, my presence 
was necessary to its success. 

The change entailed much labor. Lists of names 
must be compiled, covering all the buyers in the 
United States and Canada. These had to be pre- 
pared with great care and arranged in classes. There 
were consumers, dealers, railroad purchasing agents. 
There were the small and the large buyers in each 
class. To get these lists required many hours spent 
in searching through “Bradstreet’s,” and it was a 
work I could not delegate and consequently had it to 
do myself. 

The various forms for daily mail quotations were 


Near the Dark Valley 


97 


to be arranged and printed, also a complete telegraph 
code for the use of customers. 

Then, too, a vast amount of statistical information 
had to be gone over and a basis taken for the circu- 
lars which I meant to issue to the trade semi- 
monthly. The detail seemed endless, but by the first 
of October all was in readiness and the change was 
made. 

Before the month was over I became convinced 
that my move had been a wise one. I had practically 
no competition worthy of the name and I was finding 
new customers every day. 

So successful was the business from the start that 
with the help of those last two months of the year 
my income in 1880 was twenty-one thousand dollars, 
and this notwithstanding the fact that I had lost 
tw^o months through my illness. It was really the 
result of but ten months’ business. 

On the ninth of November, when I returned from 
the city, it was to find that our family circle had 
again widened, and at “Sunnyside” all hearts were 
open in joyful greeting to another little girl. 

My wife as she returned my caress and exhibited 
to me this fourth jewel in her crown, noticed that 
I was agitated, and with the smile and the intention 
of calming me with a joke, said: “Darling, are not 
two pair a pretty good hand?” We neither of us 
play poker, but I could appreciate the joke. 

What a joyful holiday season we had that year! 


98 


Near the Dark Valley 


As we drank at our Christmas dinner a toast to 
the health, happiness and prosperity of all our 
friends, we felt that we ourselves were getting our 
full share. 

My wife, beloved by all, had become a sort of Lady 
Bountiful to the poor of a neighboring village, and 
the thought of the many others we had made happy 
that day added zest to our pleasure. 


CHAPTER XV 


A SUCCESSFUL MANEUVER 

Elation expressed my feeling at the result of the 
change in my business. The material benefit already 
was demonstrated and the mental satisfaction at the 
correctness of my judgment added much to the pleas- 
ure of reaping the profit. 

Apparently 1881 was to be a banner year. 

My firm was growing rapidly into prominence. 
From Maine to California and throughout the Can- 
adas we were now well known. 

I say we, for as my readers will remember, in 
1876 when my partner, Allis, retired, I continued 
doing business as W. E. Stowe & Co., though I never 
after had a partner and all acts of or reference to the 
firm will be understood as relating to myself indi- 
vidually. 

Our statistics, in the absence of any official figures, 
were accepted by the trade as an authority, and in 
the foreign markets also, so far as the American fig- 
ures were concerned, they were regarded in the same 
light. 

As the business between London and New York 
was large and I foresaw that it must increase great- 
ly, I was desirous of having a London connection. A 


100 


A Successful Maneuver 


dozen reputable firms were open to me, but I was 
ambitious, I looked forward to become the leading 
firm in the trade in this country, and I wanted a 
connection with the leading firm in London. 

This firm had been for some months consigning 
occasional parcels to a large banking house. The 
bankers sold through any broker. A share of the 
business came to our office, but it was unimportant. 
I wanted it all, not so much for its present as for 
the future value. 

So far as this market was concerned, I knew we 
were in a position that was unique. 

We enjoyed the confidence of the large importers 
and dealers and were in close touch with the con- 
suming trade throughout the country. Our facilities 
for getting information as to stocks in the aggre- 
gate and individually were unequaled. The large 
consumers posted us in advance of what their re- 
quirements would be for certain periods. If the 
large city dealers were manipulating the market it 
was done through our office and we knew their plans. 

Information of this character must be of value to 
the London firm, and we knew it was not getting it. 

That was my keynote. 

I wrote the firm a newsy, chatty market letter, 
saying nothing of doing business together. After 
that first letter I never let a mail steamer leave New 
York that did not carry a letter to the firm from our 
office. 

While those letters gave enough information to 


A Successful Maneuver 


101 


show the recipient onr position in the trade, I wish 
to emphasize the fact that not one word was written 
that in the remotest degree was a violation of any 
confidence reposed in us by our New York friends. 

The weeks went by and we received from the Lon- 
don firm — nothing. Finally came a brief communi- 
cation acknowledging with thanks our various let- 
ters and requesting their continuance, ending with 
an offer, if at any time they could be of service to 
us in the way of giving information on their market, 
to reciprocate. 

To this I replied with a request that the monthly 
European statistics, which the firm published, should 
be cabled us at the end of each month that we might 
publish them with ours. 

This request was complied with, and thereafter 
we kept up our letters, always endeavoring to make 
them more interesting and occasionally receiving 
brief letters in acknowledgment. 

This one-sided correspondence continued for sev- 
eral months, then I wrote that we purposed forming 
a London connection and would much prefer to do 
so with their firm if open for it. If not, we should 
of course be compelled to cease our advices and make 
an arrangement with some other firm. 

As I had hoped, the taste of our quality had en- 
couraged an appetite for more, and after brief nego- 
tiations an arrangement was entered into by which 
we controlled the firm’s business in the American 
markets. 


102 


A Successful Maneuver 


It proved a very profitable arrangement for both 
firms. 

With this London connection secured, I had taken 
the last step necessary for doing business on the 
broadest scale. 

The wheel had been built starting from the hub, 
the tire was elastic, and as the spokes lengthened 
the circumference became so large that we were 
gathering force with each revolution and all the 
business in sight was coming our way. 

Up to this time I had done nothing in the way 
of seeking speculative customers, and I now began 
to think seriously of doing so. 

The field was large, the only difficulty was to get 
people who had been accustomed to speculate in 
grain, cotton and petroleum to try a new commodity. 
I knew the opportunities for money-making, but it 
was necessary to convince the speculator that the 
chances of gain were better, the possibility of loss 
less than in the well-known great speculative com- 
modities of the age. 

I commenced the preparation of educational liter- 
ature with which I meant to circularize the country. 
I did not want the small fry, the little speculator 
with only a few hundreds or thousands of dollars. 
What I was after was men of financial ability and 
the nerve to go into large operations and see them 
through to a finish. 

Before I had made a move, our first speculative 
client put in an appearance. 

He was in the trade, senior partner of the largest 


A Successful Maneuver 


103 


firm in Baltimore, and no argument from us was 
necessary. Calling at the office he gave us an order 
for his individual account, the transaction to be car- 
ried in onr name. 

It was not a large order, the margin he deposited 
with us being but two thousand dollars. 

When the transaction was closed and we returned 
him his margin, we had the pleasure of including 
in our cheque thirty-nine hundred dollars profit, 
after deducting our commissions, which amounted 
to five hundred and seventy-five dollars. 

This experience gave me a hint I was quick to 
take. If an individual member of one firm in the 
trade would speculate, why not members of other 
firms? The ethics of the case, the propriety of a 
partner speculating on his own account in a com- 
modity in which his firm was dealing did not con- 
cern me. 

Here was a field I had not counted on and I de- 
termined to explore it before going to the general 
public. 

I had one hundred letters mailed in plain enve- 
lopes to individual members of the larger firms 
which we were regularly selling. The result aston- 
ished me. This was in December, 1881, and before 
the following February sixty-seven of the men writ- 
ten to had accounts on our books. 

Some of the novel experiences in this branch of 
the business will be related in a later chapter. 

As I had anticipated, 1881 was a banner year. My 
profits were nearly twenty-eight thousand dollars. 


CHAPTER XVI 


“REDSTONE” 

“Sunnyside” had become too small for us. 

Our life had been so happy there we could not 
bear to think of leaving it. I had an architect look 
the house over and prepare plans for an extensive 
addition. 

This was done, though he strongly disadvised it. 
I could not but admit the force of his argument that 
it was foolish, regarded from an investment point of 
view, to expend on the place the amount I contem- 
plated. Far better to sell and build a new house 
was his opinion. 

Then we talked of moving the house to another 
plot and building on the old site. To this there were 
two objections. The site was not suitable for the 
style of house I wanted, and there was too little land 
with no opportunity to add to it, as the land on 
either side was already occupied. 

The matter was settled by the appearance of a 
buyer for “Sunnyside” at a price that paid me a 
fair profit, and I made the sale subject to possession 
being given when the new house was completed 

Within a stone’s throw of “Sunnyside” was a plot 
of land, a little less than two acres in extent, that we 











REDSTONE 



“Redstone” 


107 


had always admired. I bought the land for five 
thousand dollars and the architect commenced at 
once on the plans. 

We thought that the new house was to be our 
home for the rest of our days, and naturally the 
greatest interest was taken in every detail. The first 
plans submitted were satisfactory, after a few minor 
changes, and ground was broken on July 2, 1881. 
How we watched the progress ! 

From the time the first shovelful of earth was 
taken out for the excavations until the last work was 
finished, not a day passed that we did not go over 
it all. 

“Redstone,” taking its name from the red sand- 
stone of which it was built, was and is today a fine 
example of the architecture then so much in vogue 
for country houses. 

The Matthews House on Riverside Drive, New York 
City, so much admired, was designed by the same 
architect and modeled after it. 

Standing on a hill, its three massive outside chim- 
neys support a roof of graceful outlines and gener- 
ous proportions. From the three second-story bal- 
conies one gets views near and distant of a beautiful 
country. The fourteen-feet-wide piazza on the first 
floor, extending across the front and around the 
tower, with its stone porte cochere and entrance 
arch, is most inviting. With grounds tastefully laid 
out, driveways with their white-stone paved gutters, 
cut-stone steps to the terraces, great trees and hand- 


108 


“Redstone” ' 


some shrubs, the place was a delight to the eye, and 
at the time of which I write there was nothing to 
compare with it in that section. 

Through a massive doorway one enters a hall of 
baronial character thirty-three feet long, eighteen 
feet wide and twenty-one feet high, finished in oak, 
with open-beam ceiling, and above the high wainscot 
a rough wall in Pompeian red. 

Two features of the hall are the great stone fire- 
place with its old-fashioned crane and huge wrought- 
iron andirons and the stained-glass window on the 
staircase, a life-sized figure of a “Knight of Old.” 

This hall was illustrated in Appleton’s work on 
“Artistic Interiors.” 

On the right is the spacious drawing-room in San 
Domingo mahogany and rich decorations in old rose 
and gold, and back of it the large library in black 
walnut, with its beautifully carved mantel and nu- 
merous low bookcases. Then came the dining-room 
in oak and Japanese leather and a fountain in which 
the gold fish sported — but enough of description. 
This was our home, and when we had completed the 
appointments they were tasteful and in keeping. 

We moved in on April 28, 1882. Here then we 
were settled for life, so we said. If a new painting 
was hung or a piece of marble set up, we had the 
thought it was there to remain. 

We loved the house and everything in it. We loved 
the friends we had made. Our life was all that we 
would have it — peaceful, happy, contented. 





■ 1 









REDSTONE”— LIBRARY 





“Redstone” 


111 


My craving for books has always been a trait in 
my character, and with the commencement of my 
prosperity I began to form a library. I had no taste 
for rare editions. 

My model for a book is convenient size for read- 
ing, good type and paper, fine binding, and illustra- 
tions, if any, the best. My wife was in full accord 
with me in this as in everything. Wedding anniver- 
saries, birthdays and Christmas always brought me 
from her something choice in literature, and I soon 
had hundreds of fine volumes of standard works on 
my shelves. 

They were not allowed to remain there untouched. 
We both read much and aimed to cultivate the taste 
in our children. 

For autographs I cared not as a collector, but I 
love to read a book that has, bound in, an autograph 
letter from the author or from some character in the 
book. Many of my volumes were so honored. 

Of course in the case of authors of a past genera- 
tion these letters were purchased, but most living 
authors of my time were good enough to respond to 
my requests with a personal note, and with some of 
them I enjoyed an acquaintance. 


CHAPTER XVII 


OUR NEIGHBORS 

When we moved to “Redstone” we had been resi- 
dents of Knollwood three years, long enough to be- 
come thoroughly acquainted with the characteristics 
of each individual in our social circle. 

While with all our relations were cordial, it is es- 
sential in this narrative to refer only to the three 
families with which we formed a close friendship. 
These were the Woods, Lawtons and the new owners 
of “Sunnyside,” the Slaters. 

Frank Slater was a partner of Mr. Wood. With- 
out exception he was the most attractive man I have 
ever met. Possessing in a high degree every attri- 
bute of a true gentleman, he had withal a genial, 
winning way that was peculiarly his own and made 
every one who knew him his friend. We were drawn 
to each other at once and soon became most inti- 
mate. His wife, a woman charming in every way, 
became my wife’s intimate friend. 

Charlie Wood was rather a queer combination. 
That we were fond of him and he of us there is no 
doubt, but he was a man of moods. Intellectual, a 
good talker and an unusually fine vocalist, his so- 
ciety as a rule was very enjoyable, but there were 
times when in a certain mood he was neither a pleas- 
ant nor cheerful companion. 


Our Neighbors 


113 


Perhaps a remark which he made to me one day 
at “Sunnyside” will show better than anything I 
can write the true inwardness of the man. 

We were discussing some business affairs of his 
over which he was feeling blue. I was trying to 
cheer him up, when he said, "I tell you, Walter, I 
could be perfectly contented and happy, no matter 
how little money I had, if everybody around me had 
just a little less.” 

George Lawton, a jolly, good-natured fellow, was 
liked by everybody, and his wife, a pleasant, cheer- 
ful, good-hearted little woman, was equally popular. 

The Lawtons were the least prosperous of any of 
our little circle. George was always just a little be- 
hind in his finances, but so constituted that this did 
not worry him. 

The time will come in this narrative when the au- 
thor will be upon the defensive, and he deems it nec- 
essary that his readers should fully understand cer- 
tain relations existing within this circle of friends, 
even though that they shall do so he is compelled 
to violate the scriptural injunction, “Let not thy left 
hand know what thy right hand doeth.” * 

♦Under ordinary conditions the author would never think 
of advertising to the world the good that he has done. Be- 
fore the conclusion of this narrative there will be much 
that is far removed from the ordinary. Errors to atone for, 
misunderstandings to explain, false innuendos and charges 
to indignantly deny and disprove. It is the narrative of a 
life, and the good in that life is certainly a part of it. In 
later chapters, when certain matters are set forth, my 
readers will be good enough to bear this in mind. 


114 


Our Neighbors 


The Woods and Lawtons came to Knoll wood to- 
gether. They were intimate friends before that time. 
Not one detail of the affairs or life of one but was 
known to the other. It was the same as one family, 
only under two roofs. 

George Lawton was always in need of money. His 
expenditures exceeded his earnings year after year, 
and he borrowed to make up the deficiency. Wood 
was as well able as I to loan him the money, and as a 
closer and an older friend should have been the one 
to do it. 

On the train one day, when sitting together, he 
said to me, “Walter, how much does George owe 
you?” To which I replied, “Oh, a small matter.” 
It was at that time nearly six hundred dollars. 
“Well,” he said, “I am glad you can help him out, 
but he don’t get into me more than two hundred dol- 
lars; that’s the limit, for I doubt if he ever pays it 
back.” 

I went on with my loans just the same, and when 
some years later the family left Knollwood he owed 
me more than two thousand dollars that had been 
borrowed in small amounts. At one time George 
was fortunate in getting an interest in a patent mo- 
tor for use on sewing machines. He told Wood all 
about it and of one weak feature in connection with 
the battery, which, however, he thought was about 
overcome. 

Without telling George, Wood at a small expense 
employed a man who succeeded in perfecting the bat- 


Our Neighbors 


115 


tery, then, going to George, said: “You cannot use 
your motor without my battery. I will turn it over 
to you for half your interest.” 

There was no escape, and, though George made 
some thousands out of his interest, his profits were 
cut in half by the shrewdness of his friend. 

He never said much about it, but his mother, who 
resided with him, was very outspoken on the subject. 

In 1882, in connection with my business, I estab- 
lished a trade journal. After running it a few years 
I could no longer spare the time. It was then pay- 
ing about eighteen hundred dollars a year profit and 
was capable of doing better. I offered it to George 
Lawton, telling him if he ever felt he could pay me a 
thousand dollars for it, to do so. 

The day I turned it over to him I gave him a few 
hundred dollars, remittances for advertising re- 
ceived that morning. In a few years he sold the 
paper, and in one way and another he secured twelve 
thousand to fifteen thousand dollars out of it. 

He never paid me one dollar for the property, nor 
did I demand it of him. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


AN UNEVENTFUL YEAR 

The year 1883 was uneventful. 

At home, life moved on serenely in its accustomed 
channels. We were very happy and did all we could 
to make others so. 

For the summer months, thinking that a change 
might be good for the children, we rented a cottage 
at Oyster Bay. This was a pleasant experience, but 
we were glad to get home early in the fall. Our 
elder son was now nearly ten years old, the school 
at Knollwood was not satisfactory, and we entered 
him at the Academy at Media, Pennsylvania. His 
mother and I went over with him, and though the 
little fellow was brave enough to keep a stiff upper 
lip when we said good-by, I knew he was homesick, 
and so were we. It was a very hard strain to leave 
him behind us. 

Business had fallen off a little during the first half 
of the year, but this was made up later, and I did 
about as well as in the year previous, making a little 
over twenty-five thousand dollars. 

I had taken no further steps toward seeking spec- 
ulative clients, as the trade speculators who had 
come in were sufficient in number to absorb all that 
class of business I cared for in the market conditions 
then existing. 


An Uneventful Year 


117 


Some of the incidents in that business are well 
worth relating. 

We had one case where the president of one of 
the largest manufacturing concerns in Connecticut 
was the client. His concern was a regular customer 
of ours and we were carrying for him some specula- 
tive contracts not yet matured. The market was 
against him a few thousand dollars, and when he 
called one day I suggested his buying an additional 
quantity at the lower price to average his holdings. 
“Average nothing,” said he, “if when that stuff comes 
in there is any loss on it, I bought it for the com- 
pany.” 

There was a loss, and under his instructions we 
made delivery to the company. This looked like a 
“heads I win, tails you lose” sort of game for him, 
but as he owned most of the stock in the company, 
it was very like taking money out of one pocket and 
putting it in the other. 

Another episode, still more peculiar, was in the 
case of the firm of A & B. 

The firm had placed in our hands for discretionary 
sale a parcel of fifty tons due to arrive in November. 

Shortly after A called at the office and gave us an 
order to sell for his individual account fifty tons, 
November delivery. He was a bear and it was a 
short sale. 

The same day and before the sale had been made 
B called and gave us an order to buy him fifty tons, 
November delivery. He was a bull. 


118 


An Uneventful Year 


Both requested that his partner should not be in- 
formed of the transaction. We matched the orders, 
selling for A to B. A closed his transaction first, 
and to cover his sale we sold him the lot belonging 
to his own firm. This was to be delivered to B and 
we then sold it for him. 

Thus we had made commissions on sales of one 
hundred and fifty tons where there was only fifty 
tons of actual stuff, the rest all bookkeeping. 

In all the years in which we handled this business 
we had but one unpleasant experience in connection 
with it. 

The treasurer of a manufacturing concern had 
been dealing with us on his own account for some 
months, always with profit to himself. The day 
came when he was not so fortunate. The market 
was against him, and we called on him for additional 
margin. He asked for a few days’ time, and as we 
had every reason to suppose he was responsible we 
granted it. Meantime the market further declined, 
and when he put in an appearance at our office his 
account was about three thousand dollars short. 

To our surprise, he said he could not pay a dollar. 

When asked where all the profits we had paid him 
had gone he replied : 

“Wall Street.” 

The man died shortly after, and although he left 
an estate of fifty thousand dollars, he also left a 
large family and we waived our claim. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE STREAM BROADENS 

At the beginning of 1884 our business was increas- 
ing so rapidly it became necessary to have a larger 
office force to handle it. Orders poured in day after 
day, and it was evident we were getting the pref- 
erence from all the large and most of the small buy- 
ers throughout the country. 

It had been our policy to give just as careful at- 
tention to the small business as to that of more im- 
portance, but we now began to consider the wisdom 
of letting the former go. In the aggregate it was a 
handsome business of itself, but in detail it required 
so much time and attention, it was a question in my 
mind whether it paid us to longer cater to it. 

That the future had a much larger business in 
store for us we felt assured, and we wanted to get 
ready for it in advance of its coming. Gradually 
we commenced to weed out the little fellows. 

Some of these small concerns had become so ac- 
customed to sending us their orders and were so well 
satisfied with the way we had treated them that they 
objected strongly to being turned down. Still, we 
were in the line of progress and had outgrown that 
class. 


120 


The Stream Broadens 


The argument we gave them was, that as we were 
selling the large dealers so extensively, it was un- 
fair for us to take this small business, which ought 
to go to the dealers without the interposition of a 
broker. Ultimately we succeeded in getting most 
of them off our books without any hard feeling. 

That we were wise in ridding ourselves of this 
small trade was soon evident. It strengthened us 
greatly with the large dealers, who now secured 
most of it direct, and that we could afford to part 
with so many customers, small though they were, 
added much to our prestige. 

With more time now at my disposal, I mapped out 
a campaign having for its objective the gathering of 
a speculative clientele. 

The first step was the sending of a carefully pre- 
pared letter to a dozen or so of the wealthiest men 
in New York. No replies were received. Probably 
their secretaries tossed them in the waste-basket 
with many others. I know now better than I did 
then that the mail of even moderately rich men is 
crowded with schemes. 

A second lot of letters was mailed to men a grade 
lower in wealth. Some of these brought replies, but 
no business. We tried a third lot, this time to men 
estimated at half million to a million ; same result. 

That settled it as far as New York was concerned. 
Evidently the rich men of New York did not want to 
speculate in our commodity. Well, fortunately, we 
could get on without them. 


The Stream Broadens 


121 


Now for the broader field. We had one thousand 
letters prepared and mailed at one time. These were 
addressed to a list of alleged wealthy out-of-town 
investors, which we had purchased from an address- 
ing agency. Not one single reply did we receive. 

Then we took our “Bradstreet’s” and at random 
selected the names of five hundred firms, scattered 
over the United States, rating not less than five hun- 
dred thousand dollars. The letters were addressed 
to the senior partner of each firm. Before the end 
of the year nearly two hundred of those men were 
on our books. Every one of them made money. 

This constituency was sufficient for the time be- 
ing. I had in mind something on a much larger 
scale, the forming of a syndicate; but that is an- 
other story and belongs to a later period. 

Toward the latter part of the year there was a 
falling off in our trade with the customers, owing to 
a period of dullness in the manufacturing indus- 
tries; but what we lost in this way was more than 
offset by the gain accruing from the business with 
speculative clients. 

On December 31st I had the satisfaction of know- 
ing that for the first time my profits for a single 
year exceeded thirty thousand dollars. 

In my home life there had been nothing to mar 
in the slightest degree its serenity and delight; in- 
deed, our happiness had been increased on the ninth 
of June by the arrival of our third daughter. 


CHAPTER XX 


RETROGRESSION 

Although the conditions of general business were 
unsatisfactory at the beginning of 1885 and I had 
much doubt of the year proving as profitable as the 
one previous, I never dreamed of such a falling off 
as actually occurred. 

Our legitimate trade, that carried on with dealers 
and consumers, we thought would be poor for some 
months, as it had been over-done, and all our cus- 
tomers were well supplied with spot stock, as also 
contracts for future delivery; but the speculative 
element we relied on to compensate us for this. 

Our clients had done well and we expected they 
would continue their operations. We did not in our 
calculations make allowance for the fact that these 
men were all in active business. As a rule, such 
men do not go into outside matters when their own 
business is dull or unprofitable. It is in good times, 
when they are making money, that they enter the 
speculative field. 

Before the winter was over our books were entire- 
ly cleared of speculative contracts. 


Retrogression 


123 


We thought of making efforts to secure new cus- 
tomers, but decided it would at that time be useless, 
for if men who knew the business and had made 
money at it were unwilling to go on, it was hardly 
possible to enlist the interest of people who knew 
nothing about it. 

Month after month I saw the business decrease, 
but took it philosophically. I could afford to wait 
for better times and meanwhile did not worry, know- 
ing that we were getting more than our share of 
what business there was. 

These dull times were not without their compen- 
sation. 

They brought me the opportunity to go off with 
my wife on little trips of a few days’ duration. What 
delightful trips those were! Newport, Narragan- 
sett, Nantucket, Swampscott, Manchester-by-the-Sea, 
Newcastle, and all the pretty places accessible via 
Fall River boats — these were the most attractive, for 
we enjoyed the sail and disliked train travel in warm 
weather. Frequently some of our friends accom- 
panied us, but oftener we went alone. 

What jolly times we had ! 

Then, too, in this dull year I made my business 
days shorter, a late train in the morning and an 
early one home in the afternoon giving me so much 
more time with my family. 

Oh, it was a great year ! 

For better times I could wait with patience. I 
was not money-mad, not eager for the accumulation 


124 


Retrogression 


of great wealth; my real fortune I had already 
gained in the wealth of love bestowed upon me by 
the woman I adored. I valued money for the good 
it would do, the comfort and pleasure it would bring 
to those I loved ; but for the reputation of having it, 
not at all. 

I wanted to succeed. I felt I had succeeded. 

In my twentieth year under the largest salary I 
was ever paid, my income was five hundred dollars ; 
in my thirty-fourth year it was thirty thousand, and 
earned by my own efforts out of a business that I 
alone had created; for the business of that time 
bore no relation whatever to the one in which I suc- 
ceeded my old employer. Surely I had cause for con- 
gratulation, no matter how dull business might be 
for the time being. 

Knollwood had been growing these years with 
astonishing rapidity, and our social circle was now 
a fairly large one. 

The characteristics, so attractive the first year of 
our residence there, were still unchanged. The new- 
comers were all nice people and the right hand of 
good-fellowship was extended and accepted in the 
true spirit. 

In addition to the many beautiful new houses, 
there had been erected a small but very pretty stone 
church of Episcopalian denomination. 

At the time the building of the church was planned 
I remember a conversation on the subject that after- 
wards seemed prophetic. 


Retrogression 


125 


I was talking on the train with a gentleman, an 
officer of the New York Life Insurance Company, 
who, while he did not reside in the park, lived in 
the vicinity and mingled socially with our people. 
I told him we were going to build a church. “What?” 
he said. “Don’t do it; you have a charming social 
circle now that will surely be ruined if you do.” I 
expressed surprise at his remark, and he only shook 
his head and with more earnestness added, “Mark 
my words, that church will be the commencement of 
social trouble ; cliques will form, friction and gossip 
will arise and your delightful social life will be a 
thing of the past.” 

It is a fact that his words came true, and yet I 
contributed to the cost of the building and support 
of the church, and under the same conditions would 
do it again. 

At the end of December I found my income had 
been cut in half. I had made but fifteen thousand 
dollars, but the year had been so enjoyable in my 
home life I was entirely satisfied. The additional 
time dull business had permitted me to spend with 
my family was worth all it cost. 


CHAPTER XXI 

THE DAM GIVES WAY 

Dull business, the dam which checked the onward 
flow of the stream of our prosperity in 1885, was 
slowly but steadily carried away in the early months 
of 1886. Consumers and dealers again became lib- 
eral buyers and their lead was soon followed by the 
speculative fraternity. Our office was crowded with 
business and further increase in the clerical force 
was imperative. Long hours and hard work was 
the rule, while resulting profits continually mount- 
ing higher was the reward. 

Our customers as a class were a fine lot of men, 
all of substantial means, most of them wealthy. We 
had no friction, we were popular with all, and, other 
things being equal, we commanded the preference 
from almost the entire trade. 

Of course, some competition had developed — our 
success was sure to attract it; but it was still of in- 
significant proportions, and we gave it no thought. 
We had been first in the field and our position was 
well entrenched. 

As to the speculative branch, there we had no 
competition. It required banking facilities and credit 
to do that business. Our competitors had neither, 


The Dam Gives Way 


127 


while we were prepared to handle any proposition 
that might be presented, regardless of the amount of 
money involved. 

Our London connection had now become very valu- 
able to us and was the source of a good proportion 
of our profits. Business between the two markets 
was of almost daily occurrence, while the quantities 
dealt in were large. Our speculative customers were 
of great help to us in this direction, and indeed we 
could not have properly taken care of them if we 
had depended on the New York market alone. They 
had increased in numbers, and, finding the business 
profitable, their individual operations became more 
important. 

How true it is that “nothing succeeds like suc- 
cess.” 

Our success had become known by this time, not 
only to every one in the trade, but also to many out- 
side of it. Large banking houses, known to us at 
that time only by reputation, sought our business, 
offering most flattering terms and unusual facilities. 
Friends,- acquaintances, and not a few strangers 
begged of us to accept large amounts of money for 
speculative operations at our discretion. Large con- 
sumers discontinued asking us for quotations and 
sent us their orders without limit as to price. So 
great was the confidence of the consuming trade in 
our judgment that a letter from us advising them to 
cover their requirements for any specified period 
never failed to bring the orders. 


128 


The Dam Gives Way 


With our speculative clients this was even more 
pronounced. We had but to say “Buy,” and they 
bought ; “Sell,” and they sold. All this was a great 
responsibility and we realized it, never forgetting 
that only the utmost conservatism would maintain 
our position. That I was proud of that position was 
only natural. 

Business activity was maintained until the close 
of the year, and again I had made a record. My 
profits were thirty-six thousand dollars. 

Our social life at Knollwood this year had been 
going on at a rapid pace, and its more formal char- 
acter began to take shape. 

The frequent pleasant little dinner parties of four 
to six couples, where bright and entertaining conver- 
sation was general, had gone through a course of 
evolution and become functions where two or three 
times the number sat at the board and struggled 
through so many courses that one became wearied 
of sitting still. Those enjoyable amateur dramatic 
performances, followed by light refreshment and a 
couple of hours’ dancing, had been displaced by the 
grand ball, with its elaborate supper. But there still 
remained one feature, unique and delightful : 

The New Year’s reception — every New Year’s day 
for many years a reception was held at the casino. 
The residents, loaning from their homes rugs, dra- 
peries, paintings, statuary and fine furniture, trans- 
formed that large auditorium into an immense draw- 
ing-room. The green-houses contributed palms and 


The Dam Gives Way 


129 


blooming plants in profusion. In the enormous 
fireplace burned great logs. At one end of the room 
a long table from which was served, as wanted, all 
that could be desired by the inner man. The stage, 
set with pretty garden scene and rattan furniture, 
where the men lounged as they had their smoke. 
Music by a fine orchestra, interspersed with occa- 
sional songs by our own local talent. 

The reception was from six until nine, then the 
rugs were gathered up, the furniture moved from 
the center of the floor and dancing was enjoyed un- 
til midnight. 

For miles around every one that was eligible never 
failed to be present on those occasions. It was the 
one great social event of each year, and long after 
the circle was broken the custom was still kept up, 
until finally it died out owing to the indifference of 
the new-comers. For such a community it was a 
beautiful custom, and in its inception served to ce- 
ment the spirit of cordiality and good-will. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 

The new year opened as the old one had closed, 
with marked activity in all branches of my business ; 
nor was there any perceptible change until late in 
the spring, then began a gradually diminishing de- 
mand that made a comparatively dull summer. Not 
but what there was a fair amount of business doing 
all the time, but the great rush was over. 

It was only the calm before the storm. Early in 
the fall it became evident to me there was a new 
factor in the market. Somebody outside the regular 
trade was quietly buying up the odd lots floating 
around. 

The buying was not aggressive, far from it. Who- 
ever was buying wanted the stuff, not a higher mar- 
ket. The greatest caution was observed in making 
the purchases, so that the market might be affected 
as little as possible. Every effort was made to con- 
ceal the source from which the demand emanated. I 
knew it was not from any of the New York trade, 
and I could not believe, judging from the broker who 
was doing the buying, that it could be for account of 
any American speculator. If I was right in this 
conclusion, then of necessity it must be for foreign 
account. 


The Calm Before the Storm 


131 


In order that my readers shall fully understand 
what follows, it is necessary they should know the 
basis of our arrangement with our London friends, 
which w r as this : 

They were to cable us daily limits for buying or 
selling, as the case might be. These limits included 
our commission. We were to guarantee our custo- 
mers, that is to say, the London firm took no risk 
of buyers. If we were to sell a parcel for future de- 
livery and before the delivery was made our cus- 
tomer should fail, we would have to stand for the 
loss, if any, on the re-sale. 

A few months after the connection was established 
the firm found fault because so little business was 
done, while in many cases the limit was so close to 
the market that only the commission or part of it 
stood in the way of a sale. 

The original arrangement was then qualified and 
thereafter the limits were sent net, it being under- 
stood that when necessary we would sell at limit, 
that is, do the business for nothing ; but to offset this 
concession we were at all times to have for our com- 
mission all we could get over the limit. 

It proved a most fortunate change for us. 

The buying continued and the market moved slow- 
ly toward a higher level. After a few days’ steady 
buying there would be a cessation for a day or two 
to allow the market to sag, then it would commence 
again. The principal sellers were our London friends, 
and, though we were earning many commissions, we 


132 


The Calm Before the Storm 


felt that our friends were making a mistake and not 
gauging the market correctly. 

At this time our Boston correspondent offered us 
one hundred tons to arrive by sailing vessel due in 
about three months. We secured refusal over night 
and cabled the offer to London, advising the pur- 
chase and expressing fully our opinion of the market. 

The following morning I sat at my desk and, open- 
ing a cable, read : “Market advanced through opera- 
tions of a few weak French speculators.” Then 
followed a selling limit. I laid the cable down and 
took up the Boston telegram offering the hundred 
tons. 

With the exception of my small interest in that 
purchase in January, 1880, I had refrained from 
speculation, and now I was considering whether or 
not I should buy those hundred tons. The option had 
nearly expired and action must be prompt. Calling 
a stenographer, I dictated a telegram, “We accept” — 
and the deed was done. 

On arrival of the vessel I sold out at a profit of 
twenty thousand dollars. 

My profits for the year were sixty-one thousand 
dollars. 

On February fourteenth, as a valentine, there came 
to “Bedstone” our fourth daughter, and the family 
circle was complete. With two sons and four daugh- 
ters, the ban of “race suicide,” theory of President 
Roosevelt, rests not on us. 


CHAPTEK XXIII 


“a few weak french speculators” 

Just outside of the city of Paris was located one 
of the largest, most complete manufacturing plants 
in the world, doing an enormous business, employ- 
ing an army of skilled artisans, consuming vast 
quantities of raw material and making in profits a 
fortune every year. 

The controlling interest was a man of large wealth, 
estimated at sixty millions of francs, and of national 
reputation. His gallery of paintings was famous in 
art circles the world over. His family moved in the 
highest strata of society and in their magnificent 
home entertained with regal splendor. The man was 
universally respected in business, in art and social 
circles. 

On the board of directors of one of the great Paris 
banks were two other men, almost equal in wealth 
and station to this manufacturer. 

These three men, with a few associates of minor 
importance, entered into a hare-brained scheme of 
speculation in our commodity, that in the very na- 
ture of things was bound to terminate in complete 
failure. When they realized this and the enormous 
losses which had been entailed, in an effort to re- 


134 “A Few Weak French Speculators” 


coup they took up another commodity, and then fol- 
lowed the wildest speculation in any merchandise 
that the world had ever seen. 

When the final crash came, with their own mag- 
nificent fortunes swept away and the bank involved, 
the two directors found suicide’s graves, and the 
other man went to prison. 

Oh, the folly of it! This passion and greed for 
wealth. 

“Market advanced through operations of a few 
weak French speculators” — so read our cable. It 
seemed to us that their strength was far more in 
evidence than their weakness, indeed of the latter 
we could detect no sign. They had by their pur- 
chases advanced the market already fifteen or twen- 
ty per cent, and they continued buying in all the 
world’s markets, at advancing prices, everything 
that was offered. 

The increased price was commencing to tell on 
consumption. Dealers and consumers ceased buy- 
ing until their surplus stocks had become exhausted, 
and then bought in small lots only as they were com- 
pelled to. Meanwhile stocks in the hands of the syn- 
dicate were accumulating rapidly, with no visible 
outlet for reducing them. 

A feature in the trade which alone should have 
been sufficient to prevent men of brains from going 
into such an operation was that the production could 
not be contracted for in advance. The high price 
stimulated production, and day after day the syndi- 


“A Few Weak French Speculators” 


135 


cate had to buy in the producing markets large quan- 
tities at current prices. These purchases at such 
high figures rapidly increased the average cost of the 
holdings. 

The market advanced by leaps and bounds, until 
finally the price in London reached one hundred and 
sixty-seven pounds sterling per ton, with an equiva- 
lent value in all other markets. This represented 
an advance of more than one hundred per cent. 

Then the members of the syndicate awakened from 
their pleasant dream to find a nightmare. 

The hand of every man in the trade throughout 
the world was raised against them. They were in 
the meshes of an endless chain. For every ton they 
could sell they must buy five, or more, in order to 
sustain the price. If they stopped buying, even for 
a single day, the bottom would drop out. What was 
to be done? 

In Wales was an industry, comprising many mills, 
that in the aggregate consumed large quantities of 
the article. The business had become almost para- 
lyzed by the advance, and many mills were about to 
or had closed down. A representative of the syndi- 
cate communicated with all these mills and negoti- 
ated a contract for supplies covering requirements 
to April 30, 1888. 

The only possible way of making such a contract 
was by guaranteeing that the spot market should not 
fall below the price then ruling. This meant that 
every day the syndicate must bid one hundred and 


136 


“A Few Weak French Speculators” 


sixty-seven pounds sterling per ton for all the spot 
stuff the market would sell — but it stopped buying 
futures. As fast as the stuff could be brought to mar- 
ket it had to take it, but only as it arrived. 

That was the first step. But there was still an 
enormous stock to be disposed of, together with all 
that would have to be taken up to the end of April. 
How was that to be sold? 

Our London friends had fought the syndicate from 
the start with the utmost vigor. The plan of cam- 
paign was to load them with such quantities that the 
burden must become too heavy to carry. 

The London firm usually carried a large spot stock. 
This was poured into the syndicate in parcels at ad- 
vancing prices. Then all the little markets on the 
Continent were scoured and every ton available 
brought to London and disposed of in the same way. 

The agent of our friends in the producing mar- 
ket bought large quantities daily. It was a six- weeks’ 
voyage to London. In the interim there would be a 
heavy advance in price and as soon as the steamer 
arrived the syndicate had to buy these lots. There 
was no escape. The leading member of the syndicate 
went to London and a secret interview with our cor- 
respondent was arranged. His widely known antag- 
onism to the syndicate made him the only man who 
could build a bridge for that unfortunate combina- 
tion to cross on. He made his own terms, they were 
accepted, and that was the beginning of the end of 
the syndicate’s operations in our commodity. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


EXCITING TIMES 

The year 1888 from start to finish was one whirl 
of excitement in my business life. The mental effort 
of handling the enormous business — it must be re- 
membered ours was a one-man concern — was most 
exhausting. I became weary of making money and 
longed for a dull period that I might rest. But there 
was no dull period that year. 

In January we received from our London friends 
confidential information of the arrangement with 
the syndicate. 

Its enormous holdings were, so far as possible, to 
be unloaded on American buyers. This was for us 
to accomplish. The spot stock had to be sold against 
for future delivery and held until maturity of the 
sales. Of course, the sales were made at a discount 
from the spot price, and as time went on this in- 
creased. When the buyers at one level were filled 
up, price was lowered until a new level, that would 
tempt further buyers, was reached, and so it went on. 

The trade conceived the idea that our London 
friends and ourselves were selling the market short. 
They never dreamed that we were unloading for the 


138 


Exciting Times 


syndicate, which was daily bidding £167 for spot, 
while we were selling futures far below that figure. 
They did not know that at 4 o’clock London time, 
when the official market closed on the thirtieth day 
of April, the syndicate would cease buying and that 
a collapse would then be inevitable. It was not our 
business to enlighten them, and, strange to relate, 
not one man asked us our opinion of the market. 
They bought of us day after day and apparently 
believed that when the time for delivery came we 
would be unable to make it and would have to settle 
with them at their own figure. 

A great many of our sales were made on the 
Exchange. On this business we could and did call 
margins, but there were some weak people whom we 
could not avoid selling and in such a market there 
w T ere sure to be failures among that class. 

As previously explained, we guaranteed all sales, 
and whenever a customer defaulted we at once sold 
double the quantity we had sold him to some strong 
concern. This made us short of the market, and, 
while we made some loss on the initial transaction, 
our profit on the second sale always more than ex- 
tinguished it. 

The first man who defaulted brought to our office 
a deed for a farm in Pennsylvania and offered it to 
us for the four thousand dollars he owed. I handed 
it back to him, told him to give it to his wife, and 
forgave him the debt. 

The next man was a bigger fish. He owed us 


Exciting Times 


139 


nineteen thousand eight hundred dollars. We made 
up the account, and when I handed him the state- 
ment I told him we would not press him and if he 
was ever able to pay us twenty-five cents on the dol- 
lar. We would give him a receipt in full. In later 
years he was worth a good deal of money, though I 
believe he has since lost it, hut he never paid us a 
dollar. 

After him came a few small men, who altogether 
owed us perhaps ten thousand dollars. We told them 
all if they ever felt able to pay we would be glad to 
have the money, but would never press them for it. 

Of the whole lot, only one ever paid. His account 
was only a few hundred dollars, and I had forgotten 
it, when one day he called at the office, said his 
father had died, leaving him a little money, and he 
wanted to pay us. He asked, “What rate of inter- 
est will you charge me?” I replied, “Nothing; and 
if you cannot afford it, you may leave us out en- 
tirely.” He insisted on paying the principal. 

Our treatment of these people was not good busi- 
ness in the general sense. We could have put them 
all off the floor of the Exchange and to a small degree 
it would have been to our advantage to do so, but 
they had our sympathy in their trouble and we 
could afford to lose the money. 

The weeks flew by and we were approaching the 
end of April. The discount on future deliveries was 
now enormous. In London £167 was bid daily for 
spot and we were selling futures at £50 discount. 


140 


Exciting Times 


Under normal conditions futures should be at a 
slight premium over spot. 

In London in 1888 the last business day of April 
was on Friday; I think it was the 29th. Saturday 
the market was closed, and as Monday was a holiday, 
the first business day of May was on Tuesday. 

Just before the gavel fell at the London Exchange 
at four o’clock on Friday £167 was bid for spot and 
the syndicate ceased buying. On the curb five min- 
utes later there were sellers, but no buyers, at £135 ; 
but this price was not official. The last official price 
was £167. On Tuesday morning the first offer to 
sell spot was at £93 and the market had collapsed. 

The losses were frightful. On the last day of 
April and on the first two or three days of May we 
made all of our April and part of our May deliveries 
on contracts. The differences between the contract 
prices and the market on those deliveries amounted 
to three hundred thousand dollars, and we had thou- 
sands of tons yet to be delivered over the summer 
and fall months. Fortunately the losses fell upon 
firms well able to stand them and there were no 
failures. 

We had a very narrow escape from slipping up on 
the last of our May deliveries. 

Through some misunderstanding the London 
steamer by which the stuff should have reached us, 
sailed without it. It was then rushed to Liverpool 
and shipped by the Oceanic, of the White Star Line. 
The steamer arrived at New York on the afternoon 


Exciting Times 


141 


of the 29th; the 30th was a holiday, and we had to 
make our delivery before two o’clock on the 31st. 
Meanwhile the stuff must be taken out of steamer, 
weighed up and carted to store, warehouse receipts 
and weighers’ returns delivered at the office and in- 
voices made out, all of which took much time. 
Through our influence with the steamer people and 
the expenditure of a little money, work was carried 
on day and night and the deliveries went through all 
right. 

As our profit on that lot was thirty thousand dol- 
lars, it was a matter of some importance. 

When the syndicate commenced operations in the 
second commodity a large New York firm, with for- 
eign branches, in order to conceal its operations, 
requested us to act for it as a selling agency on the 
Exchange, all the business being done in our name. 
The commissions on this account ran into large 
figures and contributed materially to my income that 
year. 

An incident in connection with this business show- 
ing how good fortune was favoring us at that time I 
will relate : 

One of our sales for future delivery was a lot of 
two hundred thousand pounds. After ’Change it 
was, with the other transactions, reported to the 
firm. When the following morning the contract was 
sent to the buyer, he returned it, claiming it was 
a mistake and that he had not made the purchase. 
Having reported the sale the day previous and the 


142 


Exciting Times 


market now being a little lower, we did not like to 
explain the matter to our principal and let it stand 
as a purchase of our own. 

Before the time for delivery matured we resold 
at a profit of exactly ten thousand dollars. 

By midsummer we had accumulated a large sum 
of money. In addition to this capital of our own, 
our resources through our credit with banking con- 
nections made it easy for us to accept a proposition 
from a certain firm to finance for it on very liberal 
terms an operation which the firm had undertaken. 
This was in a commodity of which we were well in- 
formed though not doing business in it. 

The operation proved a failure and in October the 
firm suspended. 

We were carrying an enormous quantity of the 
stuff, and when liquidation was completed had made 
a loss of sixty-eight thousand dollars, of which we 
never recovered a single dollar. 

At the end of the year, after charging off all the 
losses, amounting to about one hundred thousand 
dollars, I had made a net profit of one hundred and 
twenty thousand dollars. 


CHAPTER XXV 


"comb and dance in the barn” 

Although very fond of horses and driving, it was 
not until 1888 that we indulged ourselves in that 
direction. 

When we built “Redstone” we planned where we 
would put the stable when ready for it, but were in 
no hurry about building. 

For fast horses I had no liking. My taste was for 
high-stepping carriage horses. A pair that could 
pull a heavy T-cart with four people eight or nine 
miles an hour and keep it up without urging were 
fast enough, in my opinion. I wanted high-spirited, 
blooded animals, fine carriages and perfect appoint- 
ments. Until I could afford such I preferred to go 
without. 

In the spring I bought a pair of black Vermont 
Morgans. They were beauties and the whole family 
fell in love with them at once. For the summer I 
secured the use of a neighbor’s unoccupied stable and 
then commenced the erection of my own. After this 
was finished I matched my first horses with another 
pair exactly like them, and also bought a small pony 


144 


“Come and Dance in the Barn” 


for the younger children and a larger one for the 
boys. 

It was not long before I had trained my horses to 
drive either tandem, four-in-hand or three abreast, 
and, with an assortment of various styles of car- 
riages, my equipment was complete. 

From the Paris-built drag, carrying eight passen- 
gers besides my two men, down to the pony cart, 
everything was of the best. All w T as in good taste 
and expense had not been considered. 

My combination carriage-house and stable was 
architecturally a very handsome building, and in its 
interior every detail, useful and ornamental, had 
received careful attention. The building cost me 
about seven thousand dollars, but, judging from its 
appearance and size, my neighbors thought that my 
investment was larger. As it approached completion 
I suggsted to my wife the idea of giving a barn- 
dance, something unique in the annals of Knollwood. 
We immediately went into a committee of two on 
plans and scope and as a result evolved an evening 
of surprise and delight for our friends. 

The invitations, engraved in usual note-sheet form, 
had on the upper half of the page a fine engraving 
of the front of the stable, and beneath in old English, 
“Come and dance in the barn.” We received our 
guests in the hall and drawing-room, fragrant with 
blooming plants. From a rear piazza a carpeted 
and canvas-covered platform extended across the 
lawn to the carriage-house. The floor had been cov- 







































































. 






















OFF FOR A DRIVE 



“Come and Dance in the Barn” 


147 


ered with canvas for the dancers. Brilliantly illumi- 
nated, in addition to the permanent decorations, a 
life-sized jockey in bronze bas-relief and numerous 
coaching pictures, was the work of the florist. The 
large orchestra was upstairs surrounding the open 
carriage trap, which was concealed from below by 
masses of smilax. The harness-room was made at- 
tractive with rugs and easy chairs for the card- 
players. 

In the stable each of the six stalls had been con- 
verted into a cozy nook, where soft light from shaded 
lamps fell on rugs and draperies. On each stall post 
was a massive floral horseshoe. The orders of danc- 
ing, besides the usual gold-embossed monogram, bore 
an engraving of a tandem cart with high-stepping 
horses and driver snapping his long whip. Attached 
to each was a sterling silver pencil, representing the 
foreleg of a horse in action, the shoe being of gold. 
Supper was served in the dining-room from a table 
decorated in keeping with the event, the center-piece 
being a model in sugar of the tandem design on the 
order of dancing. 

The affair was a great success in every way, and 
the following evening we allowed our colored ser- 
vants to entertain their friends at the stable. With 
a few of our neighbors, we witnessed the “cakewalk” 
and found much fun in it. The next day the horses 
were in possession. 


.1 


CHAPTER XXVI 

AN IMPORTER AND DEALER 

While during 1888 we were nominally brokers, a 
considerable portion of our business was actually in 
the nature of that of an importer and dealer. This 
position was really forced on us by circumstances 
beyond our control. To protect ourselves from loss 
in our sales for London account we had to take 
from time to time an interest in the market, and this 
made us dealers. To complete our sales we were 
compelled to import the material, and thus became 
importers. 

With the opening of the year 1889 we found our- 
selves possessed of fairly large capital and a firmly 
established credit with bankers. These facts, com- 
bined with the best facilities for doing the business, 
decided us to eliminate the brokerage phase entirely, 
except in our transactions with our speculative cli- 
ents. From that time on we bought and sold for our 
own account. 

We had a very large trade with consumers through- 
out the country, and we knew we had but to say the 
word to increase this by calling back all the small 


An Importer and Dealer 


149 


buyers with whom we parted company in 1884. As 
brokers we did not care for that small trade, but as 
dealers it was an entirely different proposition. 

Of course as soon as the New York dealers learned 
of our new departure they would give us sharp and 
active competition for the orders, but we felt so 
strong in our position we did not fear it. 

We made no public announcement, but quietly 
bought the necessary spot stock in the cheapest 
market, and as soon as we were ready, when the 
orders came to us, filled them ourselves instead of 
passing them on to the dealers as heretofore. 

Only a few days passed before the dealers, miss- 
ing the orders they had been accustomed to receive 
through our hands, commenced to investigate. When 
questioned we told them frankly what we were do- 
ing. At first, argument was used to dissuade us 
from such a policy, but when we were told we had 
no right to the business I replied that we were not 
dealing in a patented article and I knew of no law 
to prevent us from trading as dealers if we so de- 
sired. 

That ended the argument, and men who for years 
had been in close business intimacy and friendship 
with us became our enemies. 

I knew well what that meant. Henceforth I was 
to get my share of the personal animosity that in 
this trade superseded the spirit of fair competition. 

Those men held up before the world as models of 
Christian piety, who never missed a church service, 


150 


An Importer and Dealer 


whose names appeared in the papers as subscribers 
to charitable and mission funds ; those Sunday- 
school teachers who would not have in their homes 
on the Sabbath day a newspaper, who would not 
take a glass of wine at dinner because of the example 
to their boys, and yet in their efforts to injure a busi- 
ness rival never hesitated to break the Ninth Com- 
mandment — not in words, oh no, too cautious for 
that, nothing that one could put his finger on; but 
the shrug of the shoulder, the significant raising of 
the eyebrows, the insinuation, the little hint to un- 
settle confidence. Bah ! on such Christianity. 

And now those men were to train their guns on 
me. 

I had been twenty years in the trade and knew 
how others had fared. I grant, in many cases, it 
was tit-for-tat, the man injured had done his best to 
injure others. With few exceptions the entire trade 
were “birds of a feather.” 

We had not long to wait for the first shot and it 
fell very flat, the honors in that engagement all be- 
ing with us. 

A broker had offered us a parcel for future deliv- 
ery at a price he thought cheap, and we accepted it. 
Later he called and said when he gave up our name 
as the buyer, the seller declined to confirm unless 
we would deposit with him, the seller, five thousand 
dollars as security. 

This concern knew we were perfectly responsible, 
but took this method of discrediting us, expecting 


An Importer and Dealer 


151 


that the broker would help the matter on by gossip- 
ing through the trade about it. 

We heard his story and then said to him, “Go 
back and say to your principal that we will not de- 
posit with him one dollar ; but if he will deposit with 
any trust company five thousand dollars, we will de- 
posit twenty-five thousand against it.” 

The seller declined to deposit anything and the 
sale was canceled. The broker did gossip about it, 
but as his account of the incident was correct, it 
added to our prestige. 

Every now and then we would hear of something 
that one or another of our competitors had inti- 
mated to our discredit, but, treating all such rumors 
with silent contempt, we kept up the even tenor of 
our way and closed the year with a profit of seventy- 
two thousand dollars. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


SAD HEARTS AT KNOLLWOOD 

The spring of 1890 brought with it two great sor- 
rows. Following closely on the death of my beloved 
mother, came the death at “Sunny side” of Frank 
Slater. The latter was unexpected in its sudden- 
ness and a terrible shock to all his friends. I had 
become so deeply attached to Frank that he seemed 
like a dear brother and my grief was most profound. 

The day after his death Mr. Pell, Mrs. Slater’s 
father, asked me to represent the family in the set- 
tlement of the business affairs. There was no will 
and there were many complications. 

Mr. Pell, entirely without reason, I thought, had 
not the fullest confidence in Frank’s partner, Mr. 
Wood. He did not believe he would be any too lib- 
eral to the estate in the settlement of the firm’s af- 
fairs. It was in compliance with Mr. Pell’s earnest 
request that I took charge and my doing so was en- 
tirely acceptable to Mr. Wood. 

Although I regret the test of my reader's patience, 
it is essential to my defense in certain matters to be 
related in later chapters, that the complications and 
settlement of this estate should be set forth. In 


Sad Hearts at Knollwood 


153 


reading these pages I beg that the footnote on page 
112 may be remembered. 

The business of Wood and Slater for several years 
had been the acquiring and holding of certain cor- 
porate properties, some of which the firm managed. 
With the exception of one property, a recent acqui- 
sition, the interest of each partner was defined by 
the individual holdings of stock. In the one prop- 
erty referred to the interest was equal, but the stock 
had not been issued. 

At the time of Mr. Slater’s death he had a joint 
liability on the firm account in certain notes which 
had been discounted at the firm’s bank, and also in 
a loan made to the firm by the Standard Oil Com- 
pany. His individual liabilities were nearly seventy- 
five thousand dollars. Only a few of these need be 
specified. 

For several years he had profitable business rela- 
tions with me and carried an account in our office, 
drawing on it at his convenience. At the time of 
his death this account was overdrawn nine thou- 
sand dollars. In addition, our name was on his 
paper, falling due after his death, to the extent of 
eleven thousand dollars. Another liability was a 
note for forty-seven hundred dollars discounted by 
a Pennsylvania banker, a personal friend. There 
was also an agreement to refund to a friend under 
certain conditions ten thousand dollars which he had 
invested in a manufacturing plant in Connecticut 
which Mr. Slater was backing. 


154 


Sad Hearts at Knollwood 


The assets consisted almost entirely of the interest 
in the corporate properties which the firm had ac- 
quired and stock in the Connecticut concern. There 
was also a library which realized, when sold at auc- 
tion, about five thousand dollars. 

The real estate was in Mrs. Slater’s name and be- 
longed to her. 

In the most valuable properties of the firm Wood 
& Slater owned but two-thirds interest, the remain- 
ing third being held by the original owner, a Mr. 
Mallison. 

This gentleman, possessed of considerable means, 
was a creditor of the estate to the amount of about 
sixteen thousand dollars. I found that he was dis- 
posed to buy the estate’s interest in these properties, 
and finally sold it to him for one hundred thousand 
dollars. An additional consideration was the secur- 
ing through him of an investment of half the amount, 
for a period of ten years, at a guaranteed return of 
ten per cent per annum. 

The Connecticut investment looked to me most 
unpromising. With extensive advertising it might 
be made a profitable business, but there was no 
money for this ; on the other hand, additional capital 
was needed at once to keep the concern alive. The 
note held by the Pennsylvania banker had been is- 
sued for the benefit of this business and must be 
paid. Unless new capital was found to keep the con- 
cern going, the ten thousand dollars guaranteed by 
Mr. Slater must be refunded at once. In other 


Sad Hearts at Knollwood 


155 


words,’ if the business was abandoned the estate 
would be immediately depleted to the extent of four- 
teen thousand seven hundred dollars. 

A meeting was held at my office at which were 
present all the parties interested and also Mr. Wood. 
After a general discussion, in which Mr. Wood took 
part and expressed great confidence in the future 
success of the business, the gentleman who had in- 
vested the ten thousand dollars made a proposition 
that if Mr. Slater’s friends would go in, for every 
dollar they subscribed he would subscribe two. If 
they would not do this, then he would call upon the 
estate to return him the ten thousand dollars. 

Taking Mr. Wood aside, I said : “Charley, person- 
ally, I don’t like the investment, but to save the es- 
tate, if you will join me, I will make it.” His reply 
was, “Walter, I cannot. If I could, I would, for I 
believe it is a good thing, but I cannot go into any 
outside investment at present.” 

My decision as to my course was made before I 
had spoken to him, but I thought I would offer him 
a chance to share that investment with me, after 
telling him my poor opinion of it. 

My heart was heavy with sorrow for the loss of 
my friend and for his family I felt the deepest sym- 
pathy. I believed then, as I believe today, that 
what I did was no more than he would have done 
for my loved ones under similar circumstances. 

In that Connecticut concern I invested in all about 
five thousand dollars, which proved, as I thought 


156 


Sad Hearts at Knollwood 


very probably it would, practically a total loss. I 
waived my claim for nine thousand dollars on that 
overdrawn account and I personally paid those notes 
for eleven thousand dollars, one in June and the 
other in August following the death of my friend. 

The only remaining asset to be disposed of was the 
recently acquired property for which stock had not 
been issued. 

Mr. Wood was personally managing this, and he 
represented to me that it was in bad shape and that 
if anything was made out of it, it would be by his 
efforts, and he did not want an estate for a partner. 

He proposed to offset the estate’s interest against 
the liability on the firm note held by the bank. I am 
not sure what that amounted to and have not the 
data at hand to ascertain, but think it was under five 
thousand dollars. 

This property is now of great value and has, I be- 
lieve, made Mr. Wood, who still owns it, a rich man. 

At the time I thought his proposition a fair one, 
though in later years Mr. Mallison, a good judge of 
the value of such properties, told me that he “never 
thought Wood treated Mrs. Slater just right in that 
matter.” 

When I made the sale to Mallison it left Wood a 
minority stockholder, which position he did not fan- 
cy. He tried to sell out to Mallison. These men had 
a mutual dislike for each other, and Wood, after re- 
peated efforts, found they could not agree on terms. 

Then he asked me to make the sale for him. He 


Sad Hearts at Knollwood 


157 


was prepared to take and expected to get less than 
the estate had received. Technically it was worth 
less, for the buyer already had control. I succeeded 
in making the sale at the same price, one hundred 
thousand dollars. 

On my way home that day I stopped at Wood’s 
house to tell him what I had done. He was not at 
home and I saw his wife. I told her of the sale and 
asked her to tell her husband. She exclaimed, “Oh, 
Walter! What a friend you’ve been.” That was in 
1890. This is 1904. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


NEW FACES 

A snap of the whip, horses prancing, and with the 
notes of the horn waking the echoes in the hills, we 
drove out from “Redstone” just after luncheon and 
commenced the first stage of our sixty-mile drive to 
Normandie-by-the-Sea, where we were to spend the 
rest of the summer. 

This was on a Friday, about the middle of July, 
1890. On the drag my wife sat beside me on the 
box-seat ; behind us were the six children and maid, 
and in the rumble, my two men. It was a very jolly 
party as we went bowling along over the finest roads 
in the State, and we minded not the gentle rain fall- 
ing steadily. All were dry in mackintoshes and un- 
der the leather aprons, and passing through one vil- 
lage after another we were of the opinion that there 
is nothing quite so inspiring as driving through the 
country behind four spirited horses in any kind of 
weather. Just at half -past five we crossed the bridge 
over the Raritan and drove into New Brunswick, 
where we were to stop over night. 


New Faces 


159 


After a good night’s rest and an eight-o’clock 
breakfast we were off again. 

The rain had ceased and the day was bright and 
beautiful, with no dust to mar the pleasure of our 
drive. On through Old Bridge and Mattawan to 
Keyport, where we stopped for luncheon. Then away 
on the last stage of the delightful journey. Stopping 
at one of the toll-gates to water the horses the 
woman in charge looked up at the merry lot of chil- 
dren, and then, turning to my wife, asked, “Are 
those children all yours?” With a laugh, I said 
“guilty,” and away we went. The hands of the clock 
on the dashboard were at six as we drove up to the 
hotel, sharp on time. 

We soon became acquainted with many of the 
guests at the hotel, who were a pleasant lot of peo- 
ple, and were particularly attracted to a Mr. and 
Mrs. Edward Banford, of New York. 

Ned Banford, a man then about thirty years of 
age, good looking, genial, and clever, was a manu- 
facturing jeweler and is still in that business. His 
wife, a very charming woman, is now prominent in 
golfing circles. Before the season was over we num- 
bered the Banfords amongst our intimate friends. 
Ned and I were companions on our daily trips to 
and from the city, and before I had known him more 
than a few weeks he had voluntarily told me a good 
deal about his business affairs. 

He said his own capital was very small and a 
wealthy friend, a Mr. Viedler, was backing him, and 


160 


New Faces 


at that time had ten thousand dollars in his busi- 
ness. He enlarged on the liberality of this friend, 
saying, amongst other things, that when he went to 
him for money he never asked anything further than 
“How much do you want, Ned?” and then, writing 
a cheque, would hand it to him. 

He also told me that his business was very profit- 
able and the only disadvantage he labored under 
was Mr. Viedler’s frequent absence. 

This sort of talk went on daily until one morning 
he told me that the day previous he had an offer of 
a lot of precious stones for five thousand dollars 
which he could have turned over inside of thirty 
days with a profit of two thousand dollars, but had 
to pass it because Mr. Viedler was out of town. 

The same spirit which always moved me to do 
what I could to help everybody I knew led me to 
say to him, “Ned, I do not want to put any money 
in a sinking fund for a long pull, as I may have use 
for all my capital in my own business ; but any time 
you want five thousand dollars for thirty days I 
will be glad to let you have it.” 

He wanted it very soon. In a few days I loaned 
him five thousand dollars, and after that, until Sep- 
tember, 1893, there was no time he did not owe me 
from five thousand to fifteen thousand dollars. 

After we returned to “Bedstone” we had the Ban- 
fords out for a visit, and a little later visited them 
in New York. They gave a dinner in our honor, and 
those amongst the guests who become prominent in 


New Faces 


161 


this narrative hereafter were Mr. and Mrs. Albert 
Caine, Mr. and Mrs. William Curtice and Mr. and 
Mrs. George Todd. 

This dinner was the commencement of a long and 
intimate friendship with all of those I have named. 
Very many were the good times we had together, 
visits back and forth, dinners, driving trips, theatre 
parties, trips to Atlantic City, Lakewood, and other 
resorts, to Princeton and New Haven for the college 
games — nothing that promised a good time was al- 
lowed to get by us. 

The birthdays and wedding anniversaries of all 
w^ere duly celebrated, and gifts interchanged at 
Christmas between both parents and children. It 
was indeed a happy, joyous circle of friends. 

My business affairs continued to prosper, and for 
my second year, as an importer and dealer, my books 
showed a profit of sixty-eight thousand dollars. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


A SHORT YEAR AND A MERRY ONE 

As memory carries me back to 1891, it seems as 
if it would have been impossible to crowd into a 
period of twelve months more social pleasures and 
jolly good times than we had in that year. 

In the social life at Knollwood we had ceased to 
be active. We kept up and enjoyed our intimate 
friendship, now of more than ten years’ duration, 
with our immediate neighbors ; but the personnel of 
the Park had changed in recent years and with many 
of the new residents we w r ere not congenial, though 
on pleasant terms with all. 

There was still a good deal of dining, card parties 
and entertainments at the Casino, in which we par- 
ticipated, but it was with our New York friends 
that most of our social life was passed. The circle 
there had been enlarged by the addition of many 
pleasant people, although the close intimacy still 
rested where it had started, with, however, the addi- 
tion of Mr. and Mrs. William Viedler. 

Mr. Viedler, a multi-millionaire at that time, has 
since largely increased his fortune and is now the 


A Short Year and a Merry One 163 

controlling interest in a prominent trust of com- 
paratively recent formation. They had been Brook- 
lynites, but bought a fine house on Fifth Avenue. 
We first met them on the occasion of a dinner given 
in their honor by Mr. and Mrs. Curtice, to welcome 
them to New York. Mr. Curtice is a nephew of Mrs. 
Viedler. 

The Caines, although intimate, were not of the 
inner circle. This comprised Mr. and Mrs. Curtice, 
Mr. and Mrs. Todd, Mr. and Mrs. Banford, Mr. and 
Mrs. Viedler and ourselves. Curtice was our poet 
laureate, and in a song he composed and sang at a 
dinner were included these lines : 

“Thus from the crowd that gathered then 
Has sprung to fame the immortal ten, 

And Stowe has been so generous since 

That all the crowd have dubbed him Prince.” 

After that event all our friends referred to the 
little circle as the “Immortal Ten”; my wife was 
called Lady Stowe, and I, by right of song, Prince. 

It is very difficult to say what we did not do that 
year in the way of pleasure-seeking, but it is an easy 
matter to name the chief event. 

As guests of Mr. Viedler, a party of eighteen went 
camping in the Maine woods. In every detail the 
trip was a perfect success. Private car to Moose- 
head Lake, a bancpiet fit for Lucullus, prepared by 
his own chef, en route, exquisite Tiffany menus, and 
costly souvenirs. Headquarters at Mt. Kineo for a 
day or two, and then down the West Branch of the 


164 A Short Year and a Merry One 

Penobscot in canoes, and over the carries until the 
comfortable camp at Cauquomgomoc Lake was 
reached. Deer, moose, partridge and trout were in 
abundance. Every minute of that delightful outing 
was filled with pleasure. 

Early in the fall we decided to try a winter in 
New York. The “San Remo,” at Seventy-fourth 
Street and Central Park, West, had just been com- 
pleted, and I rented three connecting apartments, 
which gave us parlor, library, dining-room, five bed- 
rooms, and three baths, all outside rooms. I also 
rented in Sixty-seventh Street a stable, and on the 
first of October we took possession. 

We were more than pleased with the life in town, 
and I commenced negotiations with Dore Lyon for 
the purchase of a handsome house he owned at West 
End Avenue and Seventy-fifth Street. Just as the 
trade was about to be closed my eldest daughter 
was attacked with typhoid. She became very ill, 
and this so alarmed us we concluded to return to 
“Redstone” in the spring and remain there. 

When the holidays drew near the invalid was con- 
valescent, and we opened “Redstone” for a house 
party. When we returned to New York it was with 
a feeling of regret. 

Business had been good throughout the year. My 
profits were nearly eighty thousand dollars. 


CHAPTER XXX 

A VOUCHER 

My life, both in business and socially, in 1892 was 
not essentially different from that of 1891. Business 
continued satisfactory, my profits running up to 
within a few thousand dollars of the previous year. 

My senior clerk, George Norman, had been in my 
employ for eleven years, coming to me as an office- 
boy. His salary was now twelve hundred and fifty 
dollars. I told him that as a clerk he would never 
be worth more to us, and advised him to start as a 
broker, which he did. 

We gave him a strong endorsement in a circular 
to the trade, and how well we supported him is 
shown by the fact that we paid him sixty-six hun- 
dred dollars in commissions the first year of his 
business. 

We returned to “Redstone” early in May. Our 
home, after our New York experience, was more 
attractive than ever, and we did not believe we 
would again care to leave it. 

My readers will remember my reference in a for- 
mer chapter to a trade journal which I turned over 
to George Lawton. On July 9th, in celebration of 
the commencement of its tenth year, the publisher 


166 


A Voucher 


issued a special number, a copy of which is before 
me. An article it contains is so completely a con- 
firmation of much that I have written, I insert it 
here verbatim, except for change of names to com- 
ply with my narrative and the omission of irrelevant 
matter. The article was written by the Secretary of 
the Exchange : 


WALTER E. STOWE. 

Since the father is properly considered before the child, 
it has seemed to us most appropriate in celebrating for the 
first time the birthday of the [name of the paper] , that we 
should not only make some mention of its founder, but even 
that we should accord him the first place in our brief me- 
morial; and we have accordingly, rather against his own 
wishes, prepared the fine portrait of him which serves as a 
frontispiece to this issue. It is hardly in the character of a 
journalist that our readers will generally think of Mr. 
Stowe, although most of them doubtless know that he 
originated and for several years managed what we have 
no hesitation in saying is facile princeps among * * * 
trade papers ; but rather in his more permanent role of de- 
cidedly the most successful among the younger generation 
of * * * dealers — as a man who has carved out for him- 
self a position as commanding in respect of the * * * 
market, especially, as is occupied abroad by his London 
correspondent, the famous A***S*** 

A trifle over a quarter of a century ago — in February, 
1866 — Mr. Stowe entered the office of John Derham as a 
clerk fresh from school, in which capacity he served for 
just four years, and then succeeded to the business of this 
firm as a broker on his own account. A broker in those 
days was an altogether different sort of cogwheel in the 
machinery of commerce from the broker of today; success 
depending primarily on geniality of manner, industry and 
intelligence in the execution of commissions intrusted to 
him by the jobbing houses; all of which qualifications Mr. 
Stowe possessed in an eminent degree, and devoting him- 
self particularly to dealing in * * * advanced rapidly to a 


A Voucher 


167 


position in which the major part of such transactions as 
were not made directly by importers to consumers passed 
through his hands. But his business ability was of a 
broader type than was needed for such services only, and 
in the process of evolution, through which the old-fash- 
ioned broker was practically eliminated, his place being 
taken by a new type of dealer, who although not always or 
even usually trading for his own account, yet makes most 
of his transactions in his own name, and is chiefly differ- 
entiated from the jobber only from the fact that he buys 
and sells in round parcels and does not break them up to 
shop out into smaller lots. As this change took place, Mr. 
Stowe developed into a dealer of a newer and more pro- 
gressive type than the * * * trade had hitherto known. 
Today he stands rather as an importer, the entries to his 
firm’s credit having steadily climbed the list of percentages 
until they are now far ahead of those belonging to any 
other house; and with his intimate relations with A * * * 
S * * * & Co. of London, it would be making no invidious 
comparison to say that he is the recognized leader of the 
* * * trade of America. 

For all his remarkably prosperous career, Mr. Stowe has 
been in no way spoiled by success, and is today the same 
quiet, unassuming gentleman as when these characteristics 
attracted the good will of older men in the trade and se- 
cured to him the beginning of a business which has since 
grown so largely. He was a late-comer to the membership 
of the Exchange, which he joined only in 1886; but has 
served on its board of managers for four years past, and 
since the first of April has held the position of vice- 
president. Outside of his business, his life is a thoroughly 
domestic one, for which he has abundant excuse in his 
beautiful home, “Redstone,” at Knollwood, N. J., where he 
is one of the most popular residents of that charming 
suburb and where he has a particular claim to distinction 
in the fine stable which he maintains, his chief hobby being 
horse flesh, though not on the sporting side, with which 
we are most likely to associate such a passion. In short, 
the [name of paper] has every reason to be proud of its 
parentage, and, like all good children, delights in doing 
filial honor and wishing its founder all possible prosperity 
in the future as in the past. 


CHAPTER XXXI 

TWO SIDES TO THE QUESTION 

It was the afternoon of a day in the first week of 
January, 1893. I sat in an easy chair in front of 
the open fire in my private office deep in thought. 
In my hand was the balance sheet for 1892, showing 
a profit of over seventy thousand dollars. I was 
considering both sides of a momentous question. It 
was whether or not to retire from business. 

I had for years looked forward with delightful 
anticipation to the time when I could do this. I 
wanted to travel extensively. In my library were 
many books of travel, all of which had been read 
with great interest. I had an eager longing to see 
for myself all parts of the civilized world; not in 
haste, but at my own leisure. I wanted to devote 
years to a journey that should cover the globe. 

My affairs were in excellent shape. Within a 
period of sixty days I could liquidate my business 
and retire with about three hundred thousand dol- 
lars. I had my home, complete in its appointments ; 
my library; my stable, with all that it could con- 
tribute to our pleasure and comfort ; my health, and 
I was but forty- two years of age. That was one side, 


Two Sides to the Question 


169 


now for the other. The largest income I could ex- 
pect, with my capital securely invested, would he 
fifteen thousand dollars. My balance sheet showed 
that in 1892 I had drawn forty-four thousand. I 
considered where my expenditures could be cut 
down. There was the long list of pensioners, rela- 
tives and friends who for years had been receiving 
regularly from me a monthly cheque on which they 
depended for their comfort. Could that be cut off? 
Surely not. 

There was a still longer list of people, many of 
whom I knew but slightly, who from time to time 
called on me for help, always as loans, but rarely 
returned. I kept no record of such things and never 
requested repayment. Could that item be cut out? 
No, for when a man appealed to me for assistance, 1 
knew not how to refuse him. He always received it. 

There were all the charities — St. John’s Guild, 
fresh-air funds, hospitals, home for crippled chil- 
dren, and the personal charities of my wife amongst 
the poor — could these be dropped? Again, no. 

Then I looked at home. The education of our chil- 
dren — my elder son was at Harvard with a liberal 
allowance; my eldest daughter at Miss Dana’s ex- 
pensive school at Morristown; the rest of the chil- 
dren taught at home by a visiting governess; the 
girls taking music lessons — nothing could be done 
here. The education item was bound to increase 
materially as the children grew older. 

Then I thought of the monthly bills from Altman, 


170 


Two Sides to the Question 


Arnold, Constable & Co., Lord & Taylor, and others. 
How about those? Oh, no; I loved to see my wife 
in her beautiful gowns, and as the girls developed 
into young ladies those bills would grow. 

There seemed nothing left but the entertainment 
of our friends. A large expense, but essential to 
our pleasure and position in society. 

I carried a very large life insurance, but did not 
for a moment think of reducing that. 

Then my thoughts carried me farther. Suppose 
I could get my expenses down to my income, how 
about the people we were helping in another way 
whose income would be seriously affected by my 
retiring ? 

There was one of our friends at Knollwood. He 
was employed on a moderate salary, and when his 
wife inherited nine hundred dollars he brought it to 
me and asked me to make some money for him. Now, 
as a result, he was living in a house he had bought 
for eleven thousand dollars, and to cancel the mort- 
gage of a few thousand he relied upon me. There 
were those three old gentlemen in Connecticut whose 
income from their investment with us was allowing 
them to pass in comfort their declining years. Could 
I cut this off? No; and there were many others. 

It was clear to my mind that my labor was not yet 
at an end. I must still keep at the helm, but I made 
a resolution that on my fiftieth birthday I would 
retire. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


THE PANIC OF NINETY-THREE 

In the year 1893 there was one great controlling 
feature in our market that was to culminate on July 
'first. 

For years the commodity in which we dealt had 
been duty free. The McKinley Tariff Bill imposed 
a duty of four cents per pound, to go into effect on 
July 1, 1893, for a period bf two years. It was 
the one senseless clause in an otherwise excellent 
bill, and had been inserted as the only means of se- 
curing the necessary votes in the Senate. The sole 
object of the clause was to influence the specuative 
value of shares in a certain corporation which is now 
in the hands of a receiver. 

When this corporation was first organized I sub- 
scribed for some stock and was in its first board of 
directors and its vice-president. If there was to be 
a new source of supply of the commodity I dealt in 
so largely, it was important I should know of it. 
As soon as I became satisfied that it was nothing 
but a scheme to make money by the sale of stock, I 
resigned and disposed of my holdings to one of the 
promoters at a profit of eight dollars per share. 


172 


The Panic of Ninety-Three 


Efforts to have the clause repealed had been un- 
successful, and as the duty was certain to be im- 
posed, we thought it wise to import largely prior to 
July first. Others did the same, and when that date 
arrived the stock in New York was very large. We 
held on our own account about one-third of the en- 
tire stock, and in addition a very large quantity 
which we had sold to our customers for delivery in 
July. 

Of course, our purchases had been made of our 
London friends, and during this period our remit- 
tances were unusually large, running into several 
millions. An incident of our correspondence at that 
time was a postscript in one of their letters calling 
our attention to the fact that the letter from us, to 
which they were then replying, had been underpaid 
in postage and cost them six pence. They requested 
us to see to it in future that our letters were prop- 
erly stamped. Think of that, from a concern with 
whom we were doing a business of millions ! 

Early in July came the panic. It seemed as if 
over night all the money in the country had disap- 
peared. In Wall Street fabulous rates were bid for 
money. Banks and bankers said they had none. 
Where was it? 

When the stock market collapsed and values had 
depreciated hundreds of millions, money was found 
by the large insurance companies and the powerful 
factors of Wall Street to pick up the bargains in 
shares, but it was some time before merchants could 


The Panic of Ninety-Three 


173 


get it. Meanwhile this class all over the country, 
after a long period of good times, were caught by 
the panic with their lines greatly extended. Great 
houses, rating “a million and over,” had no actual 
cash. Property? — lots of it. Solvent? — absolutely 
so, but they could not pay their obligations, nor 
take deliveries on contracts that required payments 
against delivery. 

Our sales for July delivery amounted to nearly a 
million of dollars ; less than fifty thousand was taken 
according to contract. The rest we had to carry, 
and our bankers had to carry us. We shall never 
cease to be grateful for the generous help they gave 
us in that critical period. 

Under these financial conditions it was only nat- 
ural that all merchandise markets should be greatly 
depressed. 

Our market was weak at eighteen cents, although 
not a pound could now be imported below twenty- 
two cents. The large stock seemed to hang as a wet 
blanket, but as a fact most of it was concentrated 
in three strong hands. We were the largest holders. 
I called on the other two and told them it was ab- 
surd to sell at the ruling price, and if they would 
assure me we would not have to take their stock — 
in other words, if they would hold it off the market — 
we would buy the floating lots and advance the 
price close to the importing point. I further offered 
to give them an equal share of the purchases if they 
so desired. They asked how much I thought we 


174 


The Panic of Ninety-Three 


would have to buy? To which I replied, “Not over 
five hundred tons.” 

The agreement was made on the basis of an equal 
division of the purchases. Slowly but steadily we 
raised the price, and when the end we sought was 
accomplished we had bought four hundred and nine- 
ty tons. The operation and consequent advance in 
the market made a difference in the value of our 
holdings of seventy thousand dollars. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 

FAREWELL TO “REDSTONE” 

All through the summer of 1893 we had been dis- 
cussing the advisability of leaving “Redstone” and 
taking up a permanent residence in New York. 

Our children were now at a period when good 
schools were imperative for their proper education, 
and such did not exist at Knollwood. Our social life 
was almost entirely with our New York friends, and 
though two families of the “Immortal Ten” had be- 
come residents of Knollwood, they were to leave at 
the end of the term for which they had rented. The 
Banfords occupied “Sunnyside,” while George Law- 
ton, who had removed to Orange, rented his house to 
the Todds. 

While we were fond of all the New York friends 
and especially so of Will Curtice and his wife, for 
George and Charlotte Todd we had a tender spot in 
our hearts that none of the others quite reached. 
George, in a way, reminded me of my former friend, 
Frank Slater; not that he resembled him in feature, 
but in his possession of a charm of manner that won 
everybody with whom he came in contact. Versatile, 


176 


Farewell to “Redstone” 


witty and brilliant in his entertaining power, he was 
easily the most popular man in onr circle. Entering 
the employment of New York’s greatest life insur- 
ance company as an office boy, he is today one of its 
vice-presidents, and this proud position is the well- 
d( served reward of wonderful ability.* His wife is 
one of those sweet, pretty, clever women that every- 
body loves. 

Ned Banford had met with disaster. He was one 
of many who were unable to weather the panic. At 
the time of his failure he was indebted to me five 
thousand dollars. A day or two before the event he 
brought me a package of unset pearls which he 
valued at eight thousand dollars and requested me to 
hold them as security. 

Mr. Yiedler, who also was a creditor, was abroad. 
As soon as he learned of the failure he returned to 
New York and advanced a considerable sum of 
money to enable Ned to make a settlement with his 
merchandise creditors. This took considerable time, 
and meanwhile I required in my own business the 
use of all my resources. I told Ned if he could not 
arrange to repay me I would be forced to sell the 
pearls, and suggested taking them to Tiffany, where 
I was well known, and asking them to make an offer. 
To this he strongly objected and, much to my sur- 
prise, in view of all that I had done for him, ex- 
hibited a good deal of ill-feeling toward me for tak- 
ing such a position. I remained firm, however, and 


*Now vice-president of a prominent New York bank. 












EIGHTY-SIXTH STREET AND WEST END AVENUE 


Farewell to “Redstone” 


179 


fixed a date beyond which I would not wait. The 
day before the specified time Ned brought to my 
office Mr. Viedler’s cheque to my order for five thou- 
sand dollars. 

Throwing the cheque on my desk, he said, with a 
smile, “Here’s your money, old man; now I want 
you to do something for me. Just give me your note 
for five thousand dollars payable to Viedler.” I said, 
“Why should I do that, Ned? I am not borrowing 
this money of Viedler. This is not to benefit me — 
it is to help you and save those pearls.” 

“Yes, I know,” he replied, “but Viedler is a queer 
sort of chap. He has been putting up a lot of money 
for me. He wants this done this way and I want 
you to humor him. It will help me and won’t 
hurt you. Payment will never be demanded of you.” 
I asked him if Mr. Viedler was fully informed on the 
matter and knew what my position was. He replied, 
“Yes, I have told him all about it.” I then gave him 
the note. The sequel to this incident will come in a 
later chapter. 

As a final result of our summer’s deliberation we 
leased a house at Eighty-sixth Street and West End 
Avenue, and by the first of October had become set- 
tled in our new home; the horses we took with us, 
but the ponies were sold. The children had outgrown 
them. “Redstone” we closed for the winter. In the 
spring I offered it for rent, and quickly found a good 
tenant in the agent of the Rhinelander estate. Our 
four daughters were entered at the school of the 


180 


Farewell to “Redstone” 


Misses Ely, on Riverside Drive, and made rapid and 
satisfactory progress in their studies. 

As soon as we had become thoroughly accustomed 
to life in New York I think every member of the 
family was glad of the change. The children made 
many pleasant friends, enjoyed their school life, 
their Saturday matinees and drives in the park, and 
not one of them would have liked to return to Knoll- 
wood. 

As for my wife and myself, our enjoyment of the 
life was beyond question. We had always been fond 
of the theatre and now we saw everything worth see- 
ing. We had a delightful circle of friends, whom 
we were meeting continually. Our home was hand- 
some and spacious. Our appointments fitted it beau- 
tifully, and every room in the house, from the bil- 
liard room in the basement up through the four 
stories, was very attractive. 

Every pleasant morning I drove the T-cart or tan- 
dem through the park to the Fifty-eighth Street Ele- 
vated Station, and in the afternoon, with the 
brougham, after calls or shopping, my wife would 
meet me. When there was sufficient snow to permit 
it, we would have out the large sleigh, and with four- 
in-hand or three-abreast derive keen pleasure from 
our drive. 

For clubs I had little use, though a member of 
several. For many years I went to the Down- Town 
Association for luncheon and occasionally after the 
theatre took my wife to the ladies’ dining-room in 


Farewell to “Redstone” 


181 


the Colonial Club for a supper; as a rule, however, 
we went for these suppers to the Waldorf, where we 
usually met friends. 

With our life in New York commenced, a closer in- 
timacy with the Caines, though not of our seeking. 
They lived nearer to us than any of our friends and 
their informal calls became very frequent. In a way 
we liked them. They were chatty, sociable people, 
though a little too much inclined to gossip. They 
were not well mated. Both had tempers and the wife 
had some money, the husband, little or none; conse- 
quently there was friction and they lacked the good 
taste to confine their differences to the privacy of 
their own apartments. This was a great drawback 
to our enjoyment of their society. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


A SUMMER ON THE SOUND 

The winter of 1893 and 1894, crowded with its so- 
cial pleasures, was soon over, and with the approach 
of warm weather we sought a summer home. 

We had passed so many summers inland, we 
longed for the water — ocean or sound, preferably 
the latter. Many places on the Connecticut and 
Long Island shores were looked at without finding 
just what we wanted, and it was not until the mid- 
dle of June that we decided on the W. H. Crossman 
place at Great Xeck, L. I. 

The place had many attractions, not the least of 
which was its accessibility by boat. A sail of an hour 
twice a day was in itself a great rest for me, and 
combined with this was a commodious, well-furnished 
house, fine stable, ample grounds, handsomely laid 
out; good kitchen garden, planted; plenty of fruit; 
gardener, and Alderney cows on the place, and, best 
of all, a fine bathing beach at the foot of the lawn, 
with the open Sound before us. 

As I sat at dinner I could see the Sound steam- 
ers go by on their way east, numerous yachts passing 


A Summer on the Sound 


183 


constantly, the Sands Point Light, and across the 
Sound the New York shore. 

We drove to Great Neck from New York on the 
drag, crossing the ferry to College Point. 

On one side of us was King’s Point, on the other 
the beautiful residence of Hazen L. Hoyt. The 
neighbors were friendly and cordial, all very pleas- 
ant people ; the drives through the surrounding 
country delightful, over good roads and under great 
trees that afforded effectual shade from the sun. 
Later we experienced a few weeks of torment with 
the mosquitoes, when out of doors, though the house 
was kept free from the pests. There were days 
when my. poor horses, though coal black, appeared 
gray, so thickly were they covered with those raven- 
ous mosquitoes. 

We entertained many of our friends during the 
season and I had some good fishing. When we re- 
turned to our home in the fall, taking everything 
into consideration, we voted the summer’s experience 
a success. 

At this time we decided to give our horses a well- 
earned rest. They were in perfect condition, but we 
thought it would be a good idea to winter them on a 
farm, and as I had an acquaintance at Boonton,N. J., 
who made a business of that sort of thing, I sent 
them to him, bringing them back to town in the 
spring. They were well cared for and came back 
to us like young colts. 

During the winter of 1894 and 1895 we saw more 


184 


A Summer on the Sound 


of the Caines than ever. One evening early in the 
season, while on our way to the theatre together, 
Albert, as he sat back in the carriage, remarked, “I 
wish I could afford to go to the theatre once a week 
all winter.” I said, “Albert, I will tell you how to 
fix that. You put in five hundred dollars and I will 
do the same. I will do a little operating in our mar- 
ket with it and we will devote the profits entirely to 
amusement.” 

He sent me his cheque a day or two later, and out 
of the profits of that little account we certainly de- 
rived a great deal of pleasure. Every Saturday night 
a carriage conveyed us to the theatre, and after the 
performance to the Waldorf, where we had supper. 
Then in the Moorish room we took coffee and li- 
queurs while smoking a cigar and chatting with our 
wives and the friends we frequently met. Those 
little affairs cost about thirty dollars an evening, 
and I so managed the account that there was always 
a balance on hand. 

On one of these evenings an incident occurred that 
gave me a new light on the character of Albert. It 
had its humor and I relate it : 

The Caines and ourselves were in the Moorish 
room. We had finished our coffee and I had paid 
the check. While chatting we were joined by Mr. 
and Mrs. Curtice, Mr. and Mrs. Todd, and two other 
friends, making now with us a party of ten. Albert, 
with just a little undue haste, called a waiter and 
ordered liqueurs for the party. When the check was 


A Summer on the Sound 


185 


brought him he paid for six and sent the waiter to 
me to collect for our four, the amount being eighty 
cents. He wanted the amusement fund to stand part 
of his hospitality. The others of the party noticed 
it and smiled significantly. They knew the man bet- 
ter than I did. 


CHAPTER XXXV 


MONMOUTH BEACH 

Another winter had gone, leaving in its wake 
agreeable memories of many happy reunions with 
the friends we had learned to love so well, and once 
again we faced the problem that comes to so many 
New Yorkers who do not own their summer home — 
where shall we go for the heated term ? 

We were considering whether we would risk an- 
other encounter with the mosquitoes and try Great 
Neck once more, when w T e heard the Crossman place 
had been rented, and there was no other place there, 
in the market, that we cared to take. 

Our thoughts turnd to the ocean. With my wife 
I searched the Jersey coast from Seabright down to 
Asbury Park. Farther than that we did not want to 
go on account of the length of the trip to and from 
the city. 

On our first visit we cut out every place except 
Monmouth Beach and Seabright, and on the second 
took a lease of the Brent Wood cottage at Monmouth 
Beach. It was delightfully situated, directly on the 
beach, a spacious and comfortably furnished house 
with a large stable. 


Monmouth Beach 


187 


The house was in good repair, except that it needed 
painting. As I had taken the lease for two seasons 
and the owner would do nothing, I had it painted at 
my expense. We also did some redecorating in some 
of the rooms, and when the work was finished had a 
very attractive place. 

The grand sail down the harbor and across the 
lower bay to the Highlands was a source of daily 
delight to me. I had my own large and nicely fur- 
nished stateroom, with its private deck, rented by 
the season, and we were very glad that we missed 
taking the place at Great Neck. 

On the first and second stories there were wide 
piazzas running around the house, and for hours at 
a time, with my marine glasses at hand to look at 
passing steamers, I sat and enjoyed what has always 
been a fascination to me, watching the magnificent 
surf crashing and dashing on the beach below. The 
house was protected by a formidable bulkhead, but 
it was no uncommon occurrence to have great show- 
ers of spray come dashing over it. 

To watch the moon rise out of the sea, to listen to 
the roaring of those ceaseless waves, the last thing 
before I slept at night and the first thing on awaken- 
ing in the morning, had for me a charm unequaled 
by anything in Nature’s wonders. And those Sep- 
tember storms, particularly severe that year, awe- 
inspiring in their mighty grandeur. 

Oh ! there is nothing like the ocean. 

On July first, the two years having expired, the 


188 


Monmouth Beach 


commodity in which we dealt, again went on the free 
list. Naturally, stocks in this country had been re- 
duced to a very low point. With four cents per 
pound duty removed, no one wanted any of the old 
stock, which had paid the duty, on hand. Every 
consumer and dealer in the country was bare of 
supplies and a very active demand from all sources 
set in immediately. 

When we abandoned the brokerage business to be- 
come importers and dealers, our relations with our 
London friends changed. We bought of them all 
that we imported, and they sold to no other Ameri- 
can firm. If they bought in this market, their orders 
came to us. With their movements we worked in 
sympathy. If they advanced the price in London we 
did the same in New York, and vice versa. We were 
in constant cable communication, informing each 
other from hour to hour of the market movements. 

There were times, however, when they entered into 
market campaigns that extended over a long period. 
In these we did not fully participate. Our market 
was too narrow to permit of it, and it involved the 
locking up of too much capital. 

In August, in accordance with our London advices, 
we began quietly to accumulate stock in expectation 
of a much higher market late in the fall. We re- 
mained persistent though quiet buyers until October, 
meanwhile doing our utmost to hold the market 
down that we might buy cheaply. We looked to see 
the operation completed by the end of the year, with 


Monmouth Beach 


189 


a very handsome profit. Early in October our stock 
was sufficiently large to make it an object to ad- 
vance the price, and our buying became more ag- 
gressive. 

Just when the value began to rise the London 
market halted. This at once checked the advance in 
New York, and for the time being we had a waiting 
game on our hands, it being quite impossible for our 
market to advance above the London parity and re- 
main there. We must wait for London. 

After a moderate reaction London again advanced 
and we bought here freely everything that was of- 
fered. Again London halted. All through Novem- 
ber conditions were the same — a few days of strength, 
then a reaction, meanwhile our stock had been largely 
increased. At the beginning of December our ad- 
vices from London led us to believe that all hesitation 
would now disappear and the market rapidly ad- 
vance. Our holdings were already enormous, but we 
had no reason to doubt the success of our operations, 
and continued our purchases. 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


THE SHIP FOUNDERS 

December 17th, 1895, will ever remain in the mem- 
ory of business men, at least of this generation, as 
the day when President Cleveland transmitted to 
Congress his Venezuelan message, a piece of jingo- 
ism which was entirely uncalled for and resulted in 
disastrous consequences to the commercial interests 
of the country. It came as a flash of lightning from 
a clear sky. It was the direct and immediate cause 
of a stock and money panic in Wall Street which, 
while it added largely to the wealth of certain indi- 
viduals, brought disaster and ruin to many. 

If, my reader, you do not already know, ask any 
well-informed stock broker of that period who it was 
that sold the market short on an enormous scale dur- 
ing the few days prior to the message, and when he 
tells you the name draw your own deductions. You 
will not require to be a Sherlock Holmes. 

We knew just before this fateful day that at last 
we had undertaken an operation which was to result 
in loss, and a heavy one, but we never dreamed it 
was to be our Waterloo — nor would it have been 
except for the acute stringency in the money market, 
the result of that Venezuelan message. 

Our commitments for the end of December and 
first week of January were unusually heavy. We 


The Ship Founders 


191 


met them with increasing difficulty until the twenty- 
eighth of December, and then came our failure. 

I was dazed at the extent of the catastrophe. I 
could not realize that a business which I had built 
up from nothing to a volume of nearly fifteen mil- 
lions a year, with more than eight hundred active ac- 
counts on the books and out of which I had made a 
fortune, was swept away, leaving me only a moun- 
tain of debt. 

Alas, it was only too true. The liabilities were 
nearly one and one-half millions. Of course, there 
were large assets, mostly merchandise, but everything 
was gone, and my wife threw in “Redstone,” which 
had cost me forty thousand dollars, with the rest. 

A soon as I recovered myself I had a meeting with 
my creditors, all of whom were most kindly disposed, 
and my statement was accepted without any exami- 
nation of the books of the firm. Outside of our regu- 
lar bankers, we had heavy loans in which there were 
large equities. Arrangements were made and these 
loans taken up at once. 

Our position had been so prominent and our 
holdings were so large, the news of the failure caused 
a heavy decline, which carried the price down to al- 
most the lowest figure in the history of the trade; 
but not one ton of our stock was thrown on the 
market and we ourselves liquidated the business over 
a period of several months. 

Our former clerk, the broker, George Norman, also 
failed, claiming our failure as the cause. 


192 


The Ship Founders 


In our operations it was often necessary to cover 
our identity by using a broker’s name, an established 
custom in many lines of business. We had favored 
George largely and our business had been very prof- 
itable to him. We did not know at the time, but 
learned a little later that prices on the contracts 
made through him were on our books in excess of 
the prices he had paid the seller, whereas they should 
have agreed. This really made him a principal in- 
stead of a broker. Actually he had bought of sellers 
for his own account at one price and sold to us at a 
higher price, he making the difference in addition to 
his commissions. His representations to us were al- 
ways that the price we were paying him was the low- 
est the seller would accept. 

Norman also had been operating on his own ac- 
count, and by failing escaped his losses. The gen- 
eral opinion of the trade was that he really made 
money by his failure. 

On our books at the time of the failure were a 
number of discretionary accounts. All of these 
clients were our friends, and most of them had been 
with us for many years and had received their in- 
vestments back in profits over and over again. In 
order to do justice to all we had to syndicate these 
accounts. The combined capital was large and the 
operations had always been very profitable. 

These clients had come to us without our solicita- 
tion and it was distinctly understood from the start 
that their investment was at their own risk. All 


The Ship Founders 


193 


this money was now lost. We had no legal liability, 
but we did feel, as they were friends, that there was 
a moral responsibility, and we told them one and all 
we would accept it. 

We did something else for them ; a few knew it at 
the time and showed their appreciation. Some of 
them will not know it until they read it here. 

Every one of those clients could have been held 
as an undisclosed partner, for a very large part of 
our losses were made in the December operations for 
the syndicate. Morally, they were not responsible, 
for they never intended assuming any such liability, 
nor would we have allowed them to ; but legally, tech- 
nically, they were liable, and we saved them, keep- 
ing the burden where it had fallen, on our own shoul- 
ders. We had one discretionary account that was 
not in the syndicate. It was the account of Albert 
Caine. This as operated under our guarantee against 
loss, we taking half the profits as compensation for 
the guarantee. Although this account stood in Al- 
bert’s name, it was his wife’s money and her invest- 
ment. It had been running for a long time and prof- 
its had been paid her to the extent of about forty- 
seven hundred dollars. 

Although we had not the affection for the Caines 
we had for others in our circle of friends, we were 
extremely intimate. I have told of our amusement 
fund and of how, residing near each other, we were 
meeting them continually. They had visited us at 
“Redstone,” at Great Neck, and at Monmouth Beach, 


194 


The Ship Founders 


and I hardly expected they would be the first to de- 
sert us. They were — and worse. 

As soon as Caine heard of the failure he began a 
search for property to attach. He told a mutual 
friend that papers were being drawn to attach the 
horses and carriages and the household furniture. 
For some reasons he changed his mind, which was 
just as well, as all were beyond his reach. 

Then he made a statement reflecting on me, giving 
as his authority my bankers, on whom he had called. 
This I took up at once. I knew it was false. 

Without letting him know the object, I arranged 
an interview at my lawyer’s office, which he attend- 
ed, accompanied by his lawyer. I had asked George 
Todd to be there as a witness who could relate an 
account of the interview to our mutual friends. 
Caine, when he saw Todd, objected to his presence, 
but he remained. 

My lawyer repeated the statement and asked 
Caine if he had made it. He replied, “Yes.” He 
asked him if the banker had told him this, and he 
answered “No.” 

Then Todd said : “Albert, do I understand you to 
say that this statement you made and said you had 
heard from the bankers, you admit having made, and 
now say that you did not hear it, and that it was a 
lie?” To which he replied, “Yes,” and burst into 
tears. That ended the interview and thereafter the 
Caines were ostracised by our circle of friends. 

A little later Mrs. Caine commenced suit. Just to 
tease her, I fought the case, claiming that while 


The Ship Founders 


195 


guaranteeing against loss, I had not guaranteed 
profits, and that these should be deducted. After 
keeping her on the “anxious seat” for about two 
years, she secured a judgment for the full amount, 
and she owns today the only judgment against me. 
She would have had more money now had she re- 
mained a friend. 

There were two of my liabilities that distressed 
me far more than the others, and one of these caused 
me the keenest anguish of mind. At the time of the 
settlement of the Slater estate Mr. Pell, Mrs. Slater’s 
father, was a creditor for fourteen thousand dollars. 
Frank had been using this money and had paid Mr. 
Pell ten per cent, per annum on it, not regarding it 
as a matter of interest, but merely to give the old 
gentleman, who was out of business and becoming 
feeble, a certain amount of income. Mr. Pell asked 
me as a favor to take this money and do the same for 
him as Frank had been doing. I did so, and later he 
added two thousand dollars to the amount, so that I 
owed him in all sixteen thousand dollars. 

The other liability was for twenty-five thousand 
dollars due to Mrs. Slater. There had been a time a 
year or two back when temporarily my resources 
were pretty well tied up, and then I borrowed this 
amount of Mrs. Slater. When I asked her at the 
time if she wanted to help me out, she replied, “I am 
only too delighted, Walter, to do anything you ask,” 
and she meant it. The loan was made without se- 
curity and was an act of purest friendship. To make 
it she had to withdraw the money from her invested 


196 


The Ship Founders 


funds and, of course, I told her this would not di- 
minish her income. 

It was this liability to Mrs. Slater that caused me 
such torture of mind. The one thing that slightly 
relieved this feeling was the knowledge that neither 
she nor Mr. Pell wanted the money. If the income 
could be kept up, and this I hoped to accomplish, I 
could take my own time for repayment of the prin- 
cipal. 

My mail was crowded for days with letters of sym- 
pathy. Practically all our out-of-town customers 
wrote us, and to their kindly expressions of regret 
for our disaster was added the hope that we would 
continue in business, and promises of hearty support 
in the matter of sending us their orders. 

With our competitors it was different. One or two 
called on us and were sincere in their regret. Oth- 
ers, as we met them, talked the same way, but we 
knew they did not mean it ; and one, a Sunday-school 
teacher whom I described in an earlier chapter as 
doing business on a paving-stone heart, was reported 
to me as having made derogatory remarks regard- 
ing us. 

As soon as this report reached me I went at once 
to his office and, while his face crimsoned in his con- 
fusion at being confronted, he denied that he had 
made the remark. I accepted his denial, though I 
did not believe him. I had no more use for him than 
for the sort of Christianity of which he is an ex- 
ample, and thereafter I treated him with the barest 
civility. 


CHAPTER XXXVII 

THE FAMILY AND FRIENDS 

One of my friends once said to me, “Stowe, it is 
worth all the trouble you have had to find out what 
a noble woman your wife is;” and his wife added, 
“She is the bravest woman I ever knew.” 

Did not I know full well the bravery of the 
woman? 

Had not her character and nobility of soul been 
revealed to me time and again in the troubles that 
beset us in the early years of our married life? True, 
this catastrophe immeasurably overshadowed any- 
thing that had come to us before, but I knew how 
my wife would take it and I was not disappointed. 

If it were possible, she loved me more than ever. 
Her constant effort was to cheer me up, keep up my 
courage by imparting her own brave spirit to mine. 
Never a word of regret for all the luxuries and many 
comforts that must now be given up, never a suspi- 
cion of despondency. Only the brighest of smiles 
and most tender caresses were lavished on me by my 
devoted wife, and with all was her earnest desire to 
do what she could to lighten my burdens and to share 
in the struggle before us. 


198 


The Family and Friends 


The same spirit animated the children. One and 
all, they supported me by their strong affection 
shown in every possible way. 

Immediately following my disaster the loyalty 
and regard of my social friends, with the one excep- 
tion of the Caines, was shown on all sides. Kindly 
letters and personal calls were numerous and did 
much to relieve the terrible feeling of despondency 
that weighed me down. 

The bright particular star in this firmament of 
friends was Mrs. Slater. She had made a heavy loss 
that she could ill afford and she accepted it without 
a shadow of reproach to me. Of course she expected 
and hoped that at some time I would be able to re- 
pay her, but this thought did not influence her in her 
stanch friendship. Had she known there was no 
possible hope of my ever repaying her, her feeling 
toward me would have been the same. Mrs. Caine, 
who knew her, while calling and in a spirit of malice 
endeavored to turn her against me. As a result, the 
call was never returned and the acquaintance ceased. 

At this time I was seeking no favors from friends 
except in one little matter in which I was assisted by 
George Todd and Will Curtice. They were not 
called upon for financial aid, but they guaranteed 
my carrying out an agreement which made them 
jointly liable to the extent of four thousand dollars. 
I fulfilled my obligation and then returned their 
guarantee. 

The spirit shown by the tradespeople with whom 



































4 



“THE WOMAN’’— 1895 


The Family and Friends 


199 


I had dealings touched me deeply. I had always 
been prompt in the settlement of bills and imme- 
diately after my failure every account of this char- 
acter was paid at once. Of course we immediately 
cut off all unnecessary expense. 

King, the well-known uptown fish dealer, had been 
serving us oysters and fish regularly each day. We 
were through now with course dinners, and these 
items were cut out. The next day I received a let- 
ter from him, from which I quote : 

“I Tvant your trade, if it’s only a pound of codfish 
a w r eek, and you can pay once a month, once a year, 
or whenever it pleases you.” 

Then there ^vas old Tom Ward, the coal dealer. 
I had in my cellar about thirty tons of coal, and I 
called at his office to get him to send for it and pay 
me what he could afford to. As I entered the door he 
sprang forward with outstretched hand, saying: “Mr. 
Stow r e, I am glad to see you, and I want to say you’re 
the whitest little man on the West Side, and I have 
a few hundred dollars in the bank. If you want them 
you’re welcome to them.” My tailor, with whom I 
had traded for a great many years, told me I could 
always have anything in his shop and no bills would 
be rendered until asked for. And so it was with all. 

Of the house on Eighty-sixth Street I had a lease 
at three thousand dollars a year. My landlord, Mr. 
W. E. D. Stokes, told me to “remain until the end 
of the lease and not bother about the rent.” I ac- 
cepted this offer for one month. The Misses Ely, 


200 


The Family and Friends 


where the girls attended school, called on my wife 
and asked her to continue the girls for the rest of 
the school year without charge. The larger trades- 
men, such as Tiffany, Altman, Arnold, Constable, 
and the like, all wanted our account kept on their 
books, but we were through with the pomps and 
vanities and had no use for them. My coachman 
offered me his savings, and with the house servants 
it was the same. 

Before the end of January arrangements had been 
completed for our new scale of living. The horses 
and carriages, representing an investment of ten 
thousand dollars. I sold for less than two thousand. 
There was no time to look for buyers, and I made a 
forced sale. Of the contents of our home we sold 
nothing except a panoply of armor and one piece of 
bronze. These, Mrs. Yiedler, who had always ad- 
mired them, bought and added to the appointments 
of her Fifth Avenue home. 

At Westfield, N. J., we were offered a large house 
with modern conveniences, well-stocked conserva- 
tory and attractive grounds, at a rental of fifty dol- 
lars per month. This we accepted, and on the eighth 
of February took possession. 

Before leaving the city we were entertained at a 
series of dinners and theatre parties given by our 
friends of the “Immortal Ten,” and though these 
occasions were somewhat saddening, partaking of 
the nature of a farewell honor to a fallen “Prince,” 
we appreciated the compliment. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 


“W. E. STOWE & CO., INCORPORATED” 

At the suggestion of my attorneys, I decided to 
continue the business as a corporation. 

The reason for this was that I wanted to continue 
under the same firm name and not as an agent, and 
while aside from Caine there were no antagonistic 
creditors, it was deemed wise to provide against any 
possibility of such appearing later on and jeopardiz- 
ing the new capital which I expected to raise with- 
out difficulty. 

As a matter of fact, no creditor except Caine ever 
assumed such an attitude. 

Under the laws of West Virginia a corporation 
was organized as W. E. Stowe & Co., Incorporated. 

The charter was made broad enough to cover every 
possible branch of the business, and the capital stock 
fixed at twenty-five thousand dollars, with liberty to 
increase to one million. 

The organization was completed by electing as 
officers members of my family, and the ten per cent, 
required by law to be paid in was raised in part by 
my wife by the sale of personal property and the 


202 


“W. E. Stowe & Co., Incorporated” 


remainder by myself in a loan from a gentleman who 
was one of the heaviest losers in the operations car- 
ried on for onr friends. 

My bankers, within certain reasonable limits and 
restrictions, promised me their assistance, and I be- 
lieved I would soon again be on the highway to pros- 
perity. 

The first step was to raise the twenty-two thou- 
sand five hundred dollars to complete the capitali- 
zation. 

This seemed easy ; why not ? There was my friend 
Viedler, a man worth several millions. He had been 
warmly sympathetic in his expressions of regret at 
my misfortune. He and Mrs. Viedler had always 
shown a cordial fondness for us, which we recipro- 
cated. The social intimacy had been close and al- 
ways delightful. 

At first I thought I would ask him for the entire 
amount, then concluded to ask for five thousand dol- 
lars, really believing he would comply with pleasure 
and offer more if wanted. 

I wrote him asking for the money as a loan, telling 
him the purpose for which it was wanted and offer- 
ing him a lien on my library, if he so desired, as se- 
curity. 

By return mail came a brief reply, typewritten 
and signed by his secretary : “Mr. Viedler makes no 
personal loans.” 

That was the sum and substance of the communi- 
cation, and the first intimation I had that another 


“W. E. Stowe & Co., Incorporated” 


203 


friend had deserted us. It was such a surprise that 
I did not fully realize the fact until I had re-read the 
letter. 

Some months later I was informed, to my com- 
plete astonishment, that Mr. Viedler had some feel- 
ing against me because I had not protected him on 
that note for five thousand dollars he held and which 
it will be remembered I gave to Banford in 1893 
without any consideration and solely as a matter of 
accommodation to him. The pearls which I held as 
security for the money due me from Banford had been, 
at Viedler’s request, consigned to him for sale, under 
an agreement by which Banford was to pay out of 
the proceeds to Mr. Viedler the amount of the note, 
with interest. At the time of the consignment I 
handed to Mr. Viedler’s secretary an order on Ban- 
ford directing him to do this. 

If Mr. Viedler had considered that note my lia- 
bility it is most singular he did not demand payment 
at its maturity early in 1894. 

As soon as I learned of his feelings in the matter 
I wrote him on the subject and asked for an inter- 
view, that we might go into every detail of the trans- 
action. This he declined, and it became evident to 
me he knew there was no cause for the feeling he 
claimed to have, and his refusing to aid me was 
simply for the reason he did not want to, which, of 
course, was his indisputable right. 

Well, Viedler had failed me, who next? 

On my desk, amongst the letters of sympathy re- 


204 


“W. E. Stowe & Co., Incorporated” 


ceived immediately after my failure, was one from a 
prominent Wall Street man whom I had known for 
many years and who for a time had been one of my 
neighbors at Knollwood. I wrote to him about the 
same as I had witrten Viedler. 

The return mail brought his reply, written per- 
sonally, expressing regret that he was “unable to 
assist me, as he was a large borrower himself.” 

All stock brokers are large borrowers in their busi- 
ness, but here was an instance in which this univer- 
sal custom was given as an excuse for not making a 
loan of five thousand dollars to a friend in trouble. 

And who was this man? Here is what Thomas 
W. Lawson had to say of him in one of the chapters 
of “Frenzied Finance” : 

j***]y[*** deserves more than a mere passing 
mention here, for he was at this time a distinguished Wall 
Street character and one of the ablest practitioners of 
finance in the country. During the last fifteen years of his 
life M * * * was party to more confidential jobs and 
deals than all other contemporaneous financiers, and he 
handled them with great skill and high art. Big, jolly, 
generous, a royal eater and drinker, an associate of the 
rich, the friend of the poor, a many-times millionaire. 

Another friend off the list — but there were many 
left. Now for the next one. “The third time a 
charm” — perhaps. 

Again I turned to the letters on my desk. This 
time I took up one from a former Mayor of New 
York, a man widely known politically, socially and 
as a philanthropist. 


“W. E. Stowe & Co., Incorporated” 


205 


His kind letter when received had been a pleasant 
surprise to me. I had known him but a few years 
and could not claim a very close intimacy, though he 
had always been most cordial and our families were 
acquainted. As I re-read his letter it seemed to me 
as if it invited me to address him under just such 
circumstances as then existed. 

Again, and for the third time, my messenger went 
forth seeking for the friend who would help a man 
when he is down. 

The reply came promptly enough and brought me 
the information that my friend did not “desire to 
invest in any new business.” 

I had not asked him to ; my request was for a loan, 
but his answer was all-sufficient. 

Despondency followed. What is the use? I asked 
myself. “To succeed is to win fame ; to fail, a crime.” 
“The world has no use for an unsuccessful man.” 
Thus I gave up the attempt to raise a sum of money 
that, before I made the effort, seemed but a trifle, 
“light as air.” 

During the summer two bf our Connecticut friends 
who had been members of the syndicate, between 
them, made me a loan of six thousand dollars, and 
this gave a capital of eighty-five hundred dollars. 
With this I attempted to save what I could of the 
enormous business I had built up. How absurd it 
seemed, and yet my courage was far from gone. 


CHAPTER XXXIX 
THE; struggle commenced 

By midsummer of 1896 the liquidation of the af- 
fairs of the old firm was practically completed ; that 
is, in so far as related to the conversion of our assets 
into cash and payment of the proceeds to our cred- 
itors. These payments were very large, but there 
was still a heavy deficiency, which I hoped in time 
to pay in full with interest, gigantic as the burden 
seemed. 

Every business day found me at my office working 
early and late as I had never worked before. With 
but one clerk and an office boy, a vast amount of 
detail had to be undertaken by myself. Night after 
night my thoughts were almost constantly on plans 
to keep together the business I had established. 

I was fighting an octopus. My competitors all 
were arrayed against me with a force I had never 
before experienced. They spared no effort to crush 
the man who had beaten them over and over again in 
battles for commercial supremacy. It was their turn 
now and they showed no mercy. 

But how different was the warfare waged on me ! 
In the days gone by I had struck them powerful 


The Struggle Commenced 


207 


blows, straight from the shoulder ; but a foul blow ? 
— never ! No man, living or dead, can or could say 
I did not fight fair. Nor did I ever press an ad- 
vantage unduly or profit by the necessities of a com- 
petitor. 

Here was one enemy, sneaking through the trade 
with his lying tongue, always under cover, doing his 
utmost to injure me. Had that man forgotten the 
day in 1888 when he came to my office and told me 
he would be ruined unless our London friends would 
accept a compromise from him, and asked me to 
cable urging them to do so? Had he forgotten how 
on the following day, when I showed him the reply 
reading, “Risk of buyers does not concern us. Can- 
not assist,” he raised him hands and, shouting “My 
God! what shall I do?” almost collapsed. Surely 
he must have forgotten how I told him that I would 
stand between him and ruin, allowed him to settle 
on his own terms and carried him along for years. 

Herewas another enemy, a different stripe of man. 
He sat in his palatial office and never let an oppor- 
tunity pass to thrust a knife in my back. His blows, 
less coarse and brutal, were even more effective, for 
they were backed by the weight of great wealth and 
respectability. An adept in the refinement of cru- 
elty, between Sundays, when as a vestryman of a 
prominent church he presumably asked forgiveness 
of his sins, he did all that he could by false insinua- 
tions to help along the work of putting down and out 
forever the man who had never done him an injury 


208 


The Struggle Commenced 


or conquered him in any way not warranted by fair 
and generous business competition. 

There were many like this man. 

I had to fight against practically unlimited wealth 
in the hands of a score of bitter enemies, men with- 
out conscience in the matter of crushing a competi- 
tor. Anything to beat Stowe was the war-cry; get 
the orders away from him, no matter what the cost, 
the plan of compaign. Those men knew I could not 
long survive if they could keep me from getting 
business. 

To fight them back I had complete knowledge of 
the trade, great personal popularity with my cus- 
tomers, and only eighty-five hundred dollars capital. 
The last item was the weak point. Had I controlled 
even only one hundred thousand dollars I believe, 
with all their wealth, I could have beaten them to a 
standstill. 

My customers stood nobly by me. There were 
hundreds of instances when telegrams came to the 
office advising me of my competitors’ quotations and 
giving me the opportunity to meet the price and se- 
cure the business. I never lost an order that the 
buyer did not write and express his regret at our fail- 
ure to secure it; but I could not do business at a 
loss, my competitors knew this, and that sooner or 
later they must surely win the fight. 

From business on the Exchange I was barred until 
after final settlement with creditors. As a matter 
of fact, this was more of a loss to the Exchange than 


The Struggle Commenced 


209 


to me. During 1895 our name had appeared on the 
contracts of fully ninety per cent, of all the business 
done on the floor, and in the five years immediately 
following our failure the entire business did not 
equal that of any two months in 1895. 

On December 31st I found the volume of business 
for the year had been less than a million of dollars 
as compared with nearly fifteen millions in 1895. 

Competition had cut into the percentage of profit 
to such an extent that what I made was insufficient 
to counterbalance my expenditures. 

Office and home expenses had been kept down to 
small figures; I had made the regular monthly pay- 
ments to Mrs. Slater and to Mr. Pell, and in addition 
made some payments of interest on the moral obliga- 
tions to our Connecticut friends, but my little cap- 
ital had to some extent been impaired. 

The year at Westfield in its home life was far 
from unpleasant. Our reduced circumstances had 
not deprived us of the ordinary comforts. We still 
had our library and the handsome appointments of 
our former home, and, though these latter were out 
of keeping with the house, we enjoyed them. 

The game of billiards after dinner, while I smoked 
my cigar, served to distract for the time being my 
thoughts from business worries, and for out-of-door 
exercise we took almost daily spins on our wheels, 
which had been substituted for the horses. 

We made one delightful trip on those wheels dur- 
ing the summer. With my wife, a son and a daugh- 


210 


The Struggle Commenced 


ter we started on Friday afternoon, and after spend- 
ing the night in Morristown, went on the next day 
to Lake Hopatcong, returning home on Monday (La- 
bor Day). 

On Sunday, in our wandering, we visited all the 
familiar spots and recalled the many drag trips we 
had taken there with our friends as our guests and 
wondered if we would ever again repeat those pleas- 
ant experiences. 

We dwelt particularly on one trip, brought to 
mind by a visit to the Bertrand Island Club. While 
there we looked back in the register at a sketch made 
by my friend and architect, Charlie Fitch. He and 
his wife were included with our guests on that occa- 
sion, and after asking me to allow him to register 
the party, he filled a page with an artistic sketch of 
“Redstone,” with the drag in the foreground. 

Charlie Wood and his wife also were of that party, 
and at a dinner at “Redstone” on our return he sang 
a song composed by himself for the occasion. I quote 
a few lines : 

“Here’s a good health to the Lake in the hills, 
Here’s to the hand that our glass ever fills, 

The Kodak and Banjo; 

But principally, mind you, 

To the fellow who pays the bills.” 

This chapter, covering the first year after my fail- 
ure, would be incomplete without its testimony to 
the devotion of my wife and children under the new 
conditions. My wife was a glorious sunbeam whose 


The Struggle Commenced 


211 


rays of cheerfulness never dimmed. Her wonderful 
spirits and courage lifted me out of the slough of 
despondency, and her love and tenderness supported 
me through every trial. 

The children, from my elder son, who had cut 
short his college course and joined me in the office, 
down to the baby of the family, then a girl of eight 
years, were constant in their efforts to contribute to 
my comfort and happiness. 


CHAPTER XL 


THE STRUGGLE CONTINUED 

At the commencement of 1897 it seemed as if 
everything was against me. In the trade the fight 
for my customers was waged with renewed vigor, 
and one after another of the names which had been 
on our books for years were dropped from the lists of 
our supporters. We tried to retain them and they 
tried to have us do so, giving us every possible ad- 
vantage, but it was useless. 

We could not compete against the wealth of our 
competitors. In our efforts to do this we made 
losses, small in individual instances, but we knew, 
if continued, our little capital would soon be ex- 
hausted. Our banking facilities since the liquida- 
tion of the old affairs had been greatly restricted. 
The business was now too small to be of any interest 
to the bankers, and the commissions exacted cut into 
the profits to such an extent there was nothing left 
for us. 

With no capital, our London connection had en- 
tirely lost its value, and this same lack of capital 
prevented us from doing business with our old spec- 
ulative clients. 


The Struggle Continued 


213 


With my mind harassed by the weight of my 
monthly obligations, support of family, office ex- 
penses, payments to Mrs. Slater and Mr. Pell, and 
the more or less constant inquiry from some of my 
moral (as I call them) creditors as to how soon I 
could commence making them monthly payments, 
my brain was well-nigh turned. 

I was beginning to realize the true meaning of 
the word desperation. Is it any wonder that in this 
condition of mind my judgment should have failed 
me or that my operations should turn out badly? 
At all events, such was the case. Whatever I did in 
the market it always seemed as if a relentless fate 
pursued me. 

I felt as if I must make money and I lost it. 

Through this time of trial my wife was still the 
same loving, cheerful helpmate. Nothing could daunt 
her courage nor depress her spirits. If she had her 
hours of worry, she kept them from me. 

We decided to move into a smaller house and sell 
our surplus household appointments, works of art 
and my library. It was hard to part with all the 
beautiful things we had lived amongst so long, and 
when it came to the library I fear our tears were 
very close to the surface. 

We arranged for a small house at Sound Beach, 
Connecticut, a new and pretty cottage directly on 
the Sound. Our small payments were to apply on 
the purchase and we hoped in this way to once more 
own a home. 


214 


The Struggle Continued 


Early in April there was a three-days’ sale at the 
Knickerbocker auction rooms. I attended the sale 
and witnessed, with aching heart, the slaughter — for 
such it proved. With the exception of an exquisite 
set of Webb cut-glass, manufactured on an original 
design and never duplicated, and a very small part 
of the rare china, the prices realized averaged but 
little more than ten per cent, of the cost. The great 
chest of Gorham silver brought hardly its bullion 
value. 

A few pieces I could not see so sacrificed and 
bought them in. The fine hall clock, which had cost 
me six hundred and fifty dollars, I could not let go 
for seventy-five. An imported cabinet, costing two 
hundred dollars, at eighteen; a Tiffany vase for 
which I had paid seventy dollars, at eight, and so on ; 
but I had to stop somewhere, and so most of the 
things were sold. Within a few days I sold at pri- 
vate sale what I had bought in, but realized only a 
little more than the auction prices. 

Then came the paintings. These were sent to a 
down-town auction room. All but four, which I with- 
drew, I saw sold at absurdly low prices. The four 
and the hall clock, representing a cost value of twen- 
ty-seven hundred dollars, were taken by Charlie 
Wood in cancellation of a debt of five hundred and 
seventy-five dollars, borrowed money. He certainly 
was well paid. 

And now the library. Two small cases had been 
reserved from our furniture sale, and these were to 


The Struggle Continued 


215 


be filled with — what? There was hardly a book in 
the whole library we did not love and cherish as a 
friend. How were we to make the selection? 

Dickens, Scott, Thackeray, Fielding, Prescott, Irv- 
ing, Hawthorne, the British Poets, Dumas, Lever, 
Cooper, Strickland, Kingsley, Bulwer — these, all 
beautiful sets bound by Kiviere, Zahnsdorff and 
other noted binders, must be sold on account of 
their money value. Over and over again we went 
through the catalogue, and finally our task was com- 
pleted. 

As I carefully packed case after case of the books 
destined for sale, it seemed almost like burying a 
child when I nailed the covers down. 

The sale was at Bangs. The first day I attended, 
but had not the courage to go the second day. There 
were but few private buyers, and hundreds of the 
volumes went back to the shelves of the booksellers 
from whom I had purchased them. They told me 
afterwards they were amazed at getting them so low. 

In April we took possession of the cottage at 
Sound Beach. The house, though very small, was 
comfortable and cozy, and the lawn extended to the 
shore of the Sound, at that point rocky and pictur- 
esque. 

With freedom from care, I could have been very 
happy in the new home; but, with constant worry 
over the struggle for existence, this was impossible. 
Despite my best efforts, matters continued to go 
wrong, and before the summer was over I had 
reached the end of my resources. 


216 The Struggle Continued 

Then commenced the bitter struggle with real pov- 
erty. 

It was impossible to keep out of debt for current 
expenses at home and in the office. For the first time 
in my life I had become “slow-pay” to small trades 
men. “Buy nothing you canont pay for” is all right 
in theory, but let those who preach it put themselves 
in my place in those dark days. There were days 
and weeks when the house would have been bare of 
food if the grocer and butcher had refused me credit. 
There were days at the office when letters had to be 
held over night for lack of money to pay postage. 

My wife, unknown to me and in hope of helping 
me over the hard spot, wrote to Mr. Viedler, asking 
him for a loan of a few hundred dollars. He never 
replied to her letter. Then she wrote to Charlie 
Wood. From him came a reply that, if I had not 
read it, I would never have believed him capable of 
writing. 

It was the first wickedly cruel blow dealt me by 
one whom I regarded as a warm personal friend, and 
the cruelty was vastly accentuated by dealing it 
through my wife. 

In his letter he gave as a reason for not making 
the loan that I had caused him to lose fifty thousand 
dollars — that as a result he had been compelled to 
pay for his home, recently completed, and one of the 
handsomest in Orange, New Jersey, in part by mort- 
gage ; further, in writing, he went out of his way to 
express himself, with an ability for which he is 
noted, in most unkind and bitter terms. 


The Struggle Continued 


217 


Here are the facts : 

At our first interview after my failure I said, 
“Charlie, I am sorry for your loss.” To which he 
replied, “Walter, you do not owe me a cent.” He 
had invested with us fifty-four thousand dollars, but 
he had drawn in profits thirty-two thousand, so that 
his actual loss was but twenty-two thousand dollars. 

In 1890, only tivo weeks after he had declined to 
share with me that small investment in the Connec- 
ticut concern to benefit the estate of his deceased 
partner, because he “could not go into any outside 
investment,” he came to my office and asked me to 
take eighteen thousand dollars, to be — and was — 
later increased, for operations in our market. I 
took it, not that I wanted it, but for the reason that 
he was a friend who asked me to help him, and as 
was the case with every such investment, except 
Caine’s, it was distinctly understood that the risk of 
loss was the investor’s. 

When I negotiated the sale of this man’s interest 
in those properties to Mallison I secured him at least 
twenty-five thousand dollars more than he expected 
or could have gotten himself, and it was on that oc- 
casion his wife exclaimed, “Oh, Walter, what a friend 
you have been !” He also was one of those investors 
whom I relieved from being held as an undisclosed 
partner at the time of my failure — and this was my 
friend! 

To the letter he had written to my wife I replied, 
resenting indignantly the falsity and injustice of his 


218 


The Struggle Continued 


charges and offering the vouchers to prove my state- 
ments. His answer was conciliatory, and admitted 
that “the facts were really much better” than he sup- 
posed. 

In those days I thought often of the many I had 
assisted in the past and wondered if the “bread cast 
upon the waters would return to me after many 
days.” Of course I did occasionally find a friend 
who helped a little, but these were few and far be- 
tween. 

There was one man whom I had once loaned three 
hundred dollars. He asked me for the loan, to be 
returned in two weeks. I never asked for the money, 
and it was not until more than two years had passed 
that he had returned it. I wrote him in 1897 asking 
a loan of one hundred dollars for a few weeks. In 
reply he wrote: “You will be surprised at my not 
granting you this small favor, but I have lost so 
much money through loans to friends that I make no 
more personal loans.” 

Throughout the year there was no improvement in 
my affairs. I managed to keep the debts for current 
expenses down to small figures, altogether not more 
than a few hundred dollars, but I was always a 
month or two behind both in the office and at home. 

We welcomed the end of the year, for we felt that 
any change must be for better. I could not see how 
it could be much worse. 


CHAPTER XLI 


THE DARKNESS BEFORE THE DAWN 

The winter dragged slowly along, while we led a 
hand-to-mouth existence. Even those dreary times 
did not drive the sunshine from my home. Love 
reigned supreme in the family circle and my wife 
and children continually petted and caressed me, 
made light of our troubles and stoutly affirmed that 
brighter days would surely come. 

Fortunately all kept well, and, while they must 
have felt the awful strain of our impoverished condi- 
tion, they concealed from me such feelings if they 
existed. My wife’s wonderful health has through all 
our troubles been maintained. She is the only 
woman I ever knew who never had a headache and in 
all our married life she has never been ill. 

We were to leave Sound Beach in the spring. I 
could not carry out my arrangement with the owner 
of the property and he released me. Where should 
we go next to seek an abiding place? And in my 
mind was the thought, how long will we be able to re- 
main there when we find it? 

My thoughts reverted to those days of 1876 on the 


220 


The Darkness Before the Dawn 


little farm. “Let as try farming again,” said I, and 
try it we did. 

At Ramsey, New Jersey, I found a modernized, 
comfortable house with fifteen acres of land. There 
was an asparagus bed, plenty of strawberries and 
some other fruit. This place I rented for a year at 
four hundred dollars and removed there on the thir- 
tieth of April. 

I employed a man with horses and plow by the day 
and soon had my crops planted. About half the land 
was rich grass and I left this for a hay crop. As in 
the old days, so now I was successful in my farming 
experiment. Our crops, considering the acreage, 
were enormous, and again I astonished the natives. 
I found a ready market with the vegetable peddlers, 
and the profits went a long way toward paying the 
rent. 

At the office matters were unchanged. I was doing 
neither better nor worse than for many months pre- 
vious. The summer had passed and, with the early 
fall, I foresaw a change in market conditions that I 
longed to take advantage of, but I had no capital, 
nor could I think of any one who would assist me — 
yes, I did think of one friend who through all my 
trials had been stanch and true, but I could not 
bring myself to the point of calling on that friend for 
financial aid. 

It was Mrs. Slater. Her father, Mr. Pell, had been 
dead for some months and had been deprived of no 
comfort through his loss by my failure. 


The Darkness Before the Dawn 


221 


When my payments ceased in 1897 Mrs. Slater 
had been compelled to reduce her expenses and, with 
her boy, was now living in an apartment in New 
York. Her income was still sufficient to enable her 
to live very nicely, and, though her loss had made it 
necessary to be careful in her expenditures, this had 
not in any way affected her friendship for the man 
who was the cause. On the contrary, she always 
stood up for me when my affairs were discussed by 
others in her presence, and when occasionally I 
called on her she always expressed a sympathetic, 
friendly interest in my trials without adding to my 
unhappiness by referring to my indebtedness to her. 

As the days went by developments proved that my 
judgment of the market was correct. An opportunity 
to make money was at hand, and if I was to take ad- 
vantage of it I must get some capital quickly. I felt 
certain, with a little capital, I could do a profitable 
business that would not only relieve me from the 
terrible distress I had been under for so long, but 
would enable me to commence again, at least in part, 
my payments to Mrs. Slater. 

After careful consideration, I put the matter be- 
fore her in a letter and then called to talk it over. 
She had a strong desire to help me and, of course, 
would be glad to see her income increased, and she 
very willingly let me have five thousand dollars. 

Success came from the start. Of course with this 
small capital there was no fortune to be made, but 
that was not what I was looking for at that time. 


222 


The Darkness Before the Dawn 


The bitter experience I had been through had put a 
limit to my ambition. The acme of my desires then 
was a comfortable living for my family and the abil- 
ity to send to Mrs. Slater her interest cheque prompt- 
ly each month. This I was now in a fair way to ac- 
complish and my spirits and courage rose rapidly. 

We had a very happy Christmas that year. The 
accounts with the butcher and grocer had been paid 
up, and our gifts, consistsing of much-needed addi- 
tions to the family wardrobe, gave us, I believe, more 
pleasure than in the old days of prosperity when the 
gifts represented large intrinsic value. Everything 
now was viewed in contrast with the days of poverty 
which we hoped had departed never to return. 


CHAPTER XLII 


BRIGHTER DAYS 

Opening with a promise of better times, which 
was fulfilled to a marked degree, the year 1899 wit- 
nessed a great change in my affairs. Again I was 
making money, not in such amounts as during many 
years prior to my failure, but there was a steady and 
substantial gain each month. 

With but two employees, a stenographer and type- 
writer, and an office boy, I was kept very busy at the 
office. My hours were long and, with nearly four 
hours each day passed in the trip to and from the 
office, we decided it would be better to seek an inex- 
pensive home in New York. 

The thought of what our housekeeping had been 
for the past three years, moving each year, no maids 
and with scanty means, led us to believe that board- 
ing would be an agreeable change for all, and so we 
stored our furniture and in the early spring secured 
pleasant accommodations at a very reasonable price 
in an apartment hotel, the St. Lorenz, on East Sev- 
enty-second Street. 

With our return to the city we renewed our for- 
mer intimacy with Mr. and Mrs. Curtice, George 


224 


Brighter Days 


Todd and his wife, and a few other friends, though 
we did not see as much of them as in the old days. 
They had a large circle of friends and led an active 
social life, while we were living very quietly, do- 
ing practically no entertaining. There were a num- 
ber of pleasant little dinners, my wife and I occa- 
sionally attended the theatre, and we were very 
happy in our improved circumstances. 

The business outlook encouraged me greatly. Mrs. 
Slater had increased my capital with another five 
thousand dollars, I was getting back many of the old 
customers I had lost after the failure, and it seemed 
as if a return to prosperity, which would be lasting, 
was assured. 

In June we went to Nyack-on-the-Hudson for the 
summer, and in October returned to our apartment 
in New York. The pleasure of our residence there 
was contributed to by the society of Mrs. Slater. Her 
boy had been sent to boarding-school and she took an 
apartment at the St. Lorenz. 

We had an experience that winter which will never 
be effaced from my memory. 

One evening I took my wife and Mrs. Slater to the 
Casino to witness a performance of the “Belle of 
New York.” Our seats were in the center of the or- 
chestra, third row from the stage. The house was 
crowded, with many people standing. 

The first act was over, when there came to me sud- 
denly a feeling of great uneasiness. I knew not how 
to account for it. The performance interested me, 


Brighter Days 


225 


we were conversing pleasantly, there was nothing I 
could see or think of to explain the feeling, and yet it 
existed. 

The curtain rose on the second act. I was no 
longer interested and could not keep my attention 
on the stage. My eyes continually wandered over 
the house, and after what seemed an endless time 
the act was over. I then thought I would mention 
my feeling to my wife and suggest leaving the the- 
atre. This was unreasonable. The ladies were en- 
joying the performance and I disliked exceedingly 
to spoil their evening with what appeared to be ner- 
vousness on my part. 

Again the curtain rose. I found myself irritated 
by the performers, every word and action dragged 
so slowly in the mood I was in. I looked at the peo- 
ple between us and the aisle, and it was only by 
strong exertion of will that I was able to keep my 
seat. Again I looked around the house. Everything 
was perfectly quiet. 

Five minutes later the folds of the curtain, one of 
those that open in the center and are drawn up high 
on each side, on the right of the stage, were a mass 
of flame; the curtain was lowered and instantly the 
other side was on fire. 

The panic was on. Amidst cries of fire and shrieks 
of women, came the rush for the exits. Instantly 
the aisles were choked with a frantic, struggling 
crowd. A man sitting in front of my wife stepped 
on the back of her seat and narrowly missed kicking 


226 


Brighter Days 


her in the face with his other foot in a useless rush. 
He did not get ten feet away. 

At the instant the flame appeared Mrs. Slater said 
in a quiet voice, “Do you see that, Walter?” “Yes,” 
I replied. “What shall we do ?” she said ; and I an- 
swered, “Sit still.” My wife, always brave, was urg- 
ing the women around her to sit still and keep quiet. 
There was nothing else to do. Either that fire would 
be extinguished or we were doomed. There was no 
possibility of escape through the mass of people be- 
hind us and I realized that fact instantly. 

Fortunately, the people on the stage kept their 
presence of mind, the firemen had the hose at work 
quickly, and we escaped with a slight sprinkling 
from the spray. 

Was there ever a clearer warning given by premo- 
nition? 

The year ended bright with promise of continued 
prosperity. We had enjoyed the comfort of living 
amid pleasant surroundings and I had saved nearly 
three thousand dollars. I looked forward to com- 
mencing again payments of interest on my moral 
obligations and some liquidation of my debt to Mrs. 
Slater, but I wanted, if possible, to first get a larger 
capital, that I might make these payments without 
impairing my facilities for doing business. 


CHAPTER XLIII 


SMOOTH SAILING INTO ROUGH WATERS 

The year 1900 was very closely a repetition of 
1899. In may we again went to Nyack for the sum- 
mer, and in the fall, instead of returning to the St. 
Lorenz, rented an apartment on Park Avenue, and, 
taking our furniture out of storage, resumed house- 
keeping. It was somewhat less expensive and we 
had tired of hotel fare. 

Business was fairly good on the average, though 
there were dull periods which made me restless. 
There was so much to be done I was eager to make 
money faster. 

In July the balance of the amount due to Mrs. 
Slater under the contract with Mallison, which had 
expired, was paid over to me, and, pending some per- 
manent investment, I loaned it out on call. 

Through the formation of trusts the trade had en- 
tirely changed in its character. Many of our best 
customers had been absorbed by one gigantic combi- 
nation, and the supplies of the commodity we dealt 
in, required by those consumers, were now furnished 


228 Smooth Sailing Into Rough Waters 


under a contract made with the leading firm in the 
trade, this firm having been one of the underwriters 
in the flotation of the securities and also was repre- 
sented in the board of directors. 

This one consolidation took out of the open mar- 
ket a demand equivalent to fully one-third of the 
entire consumption of the United States. Then 
there was another trust, a comparatively small af- 
fair, but this, too, absorbed a number of our custo- 
mers. A third trust was in course of organization, 
and when completed would, with the others, leave 
for open competition less than half of the country’s 
requirements. 

Backed by a very wealthy concern, we tried to get 
a chance to compete for the contract with the lead- 
ing trust, but it was quite useless. We were told the 
business could not be given to us, no matter how 
advantageous our terms might be, and our inference 
was that the object of the trust was not to get the 
material at the lowest price, but to give the business 
to a favored firm without competition. 

This large contract naturally excited much inter- 
est in the trade and great efforts were made to ascer- 
tain its terms. The generally accepted theory was 
that the firm supplied the material as wanted and 
the price for each month’s deliveries was fixed by the 
average of the market for the last ten days of the 
month. As if bearing this out, it was noted that 
during the last ten days of each month the firm 
holding the contract did its utmost to manipulate a 


Smooth Sailing Into Rough Waters 229 


rise in price, which would, of course, inure greatly 
to its benefit. 

These changes, taking from us the legitimate de- 
mand from so many consumers, made our business 
far more speculative. Instead of buying to supply 
a regular trade, our purchases were made largely to 
be resold in wholesale lots to dealers or others, and 
the profit would depend on an advance in the market 
following the purchase. If the market favored us, 
the business was profitable; if not, then losses must 
be met. 

At this time we were doing considerable business 
on joint account with George Norman, our former 
clerk. In many of the purchases and sales we made 
he had half interest, and in the same way we were 
interested in many of his operations. This business 
for many months proved profitable. Aside from 
these transactions, we both were doing a good deal 
of business in individual account, and far more 
than was prudent, considering our capital, though 
at that time, in my anxiety to make money, I did not 
realize it. 

There came a time when, on a small scale, I re- 
peated my error of 1895. The first time it was my 
misfortune, the second my fault. 

For this fatal mistake I have no defense. I should 
have known better — but in explanation there is 
something to say and, while it is not a defense, it is 
in a measure some palliation. 

There had been a period of inactivity, with no op- 


230 Smooth Sailing Into Rough Waters 


portunity to make money. My mind was depressed 
over the loss of legitimate trade through the trusts 
and I was harassed by appeals from some of my 
moral creditors for help. I felt more than ever be- 
fore the weight of my awful burden. 

In a recent interview with Mrs. Slater, in which 
her affairs had been discussed, I had stated to her 
my hopes of accomplishing certain things. A remark 
she made in reply seemed to have burned into my 
brain. Her words were, “To do that you must make 
money and lots of it.” That was in clear-cut words 
the task before me. I “must make money and lots of 
it.” It drove from my mind thoughts of prudence 
and safety. I took no account of the risk of my 
business. I thought only of the possible profits. 

Perhaps I was mad, mentally irresponsible. It 
certainly seems so to me now. Possibly I had the 
fever of a gambler playing for high stakes. At all 
events, I plunged to the limit — and the market went 
against me. I tried to extricate myself, but too late. 
It was impossible. All the capital at my command 
was lost, and in addition there was nearly twelve 
thousand dollars indebtedness on our contracts in 
which George Norman had half interest. The hor- 
ror that came over me as I realized my awful posi- 
tion I can compare only to Dante’s “Inferno.” What 
should I do? What could I do? I wonder I did 
not go insane. 

Norman came to my office and tried to encourage 
me. The contracts standing in his name had all 


Smooth Sailing Into Rough Waters 231 


been settled and he had money over. When he left 
it had been agreed that I was to arrange for time 
for payment of the differences on our joint-account 
contracts, and as opportunity offered he was with his 
capital to do a joint- account business with me by 
which we hoped to make money enough to pay these 
differences and recoup my losses. Meanwhile he 
was to let me have from month to month what money 
I would require, above what I could make myself, 
to meet my expenses and the payments to Mrs. 
Slater. 

This arrangement gave me a breathing spell. I 
managed to pull myself together and go home after 
the terrible day in a state of comparative calmness. 
I could not tell my wife of this new trouble, and 1 
could not tell Mrs. Slater. If my expenses and Mrs. 
Slater’s payments were provided for, why worry 
either of them ? In a few months, I reasoned, things 
will come my way again and I will get out of this 
awful pit. Meanwhile I could eat my heart out in 
useless regret when alone, but must conceal from all 
the world my trouble. 

I hope no reader of these pages will ever know 
the torture of mind I suffered. It was infinitely 
worse than any possible physical torture in the days 
of the Spanish Inquisition. I once listened to a ser- 
mon on “Hell,” delivered by the late Rev. T. DeWitt 
Talmage. His word picture of a place of torment 
was so vivid one could almost inhale the odor of 
burning sulphur, and yet the place he painted was a 


232 Smooth Sailing Into Rough Waters 

paradise compared to the hell on earth that was my 
portion. 

For a few months Norman was as good as his 
word. He made up the deficiency in my earnings 
and continually encouraged me with what he would 
do when market conditions warranted operations. 
Then he commenced slowly to withdraw his assist- 
ance by responding to my request for money only in 
part, on the plea that he was himself hard pressed. 
I had good reasons for knowing that such was not 
the case. 


CHAPTER XLIV 


THE TYRANNY OF THE JURY LAW 

Of course my wife knew I was having hard times, 
but she had no idea of my terrible situation. At the 
end of July, 1901, in order to reduce our expenses we 
moved to Plainfield, New Jersey, taking a small cot- 
tage at a very low rental. 

Another reason for leaving New York was that I 
might escape from jury duty. 

This had become a nightmare, and to a man situ- 
ated as I was it seems to me the jury law is tyran- 
nical and unjust. My business required my constant 
personal attention. There was no one to take my 
place. A day’s absence meant not only loss of money 
that might be made that day, but possible loss of 
customers through inattention to their orders and 
inquiries. I needed every dollar I could make. The 
hardship to those dependent on me for support if I 
were taken from my business to serve on a jury 
would be actual — I simply could not do it. 

During the previous winter I had been summoned 
four times, on each occasion before a different judge. 
The first time I called on the judge in his private 
room before the opening of the court and was ex- 
cused. The next month I was again summoned. 
This time also the judge excused me, but it required 
much argument to induce him to do so. The third 


234 


The Tyranny of the Jury Law 


time it was even more difficult to escape, though I 
succeeded again. The fourth time was a rather 
novel experience. I shall not forget it, and if that 
judge reads these pages he will remember it. I gave 
him a fright that startled him out of his dignified 
composure. 

When ushered into his room I found the judge 
seated at his desk, there being three or four other 
men present. They stepped back as I approached 
within a few feet of the judge. 

In a low voice I explained why I wished to be ex- 
cused. It was humiliating to have to tell my story 
before others, and I endeavored to speak so low they 
would not hear me. 

The judge was of a different type. The others had 
been most kind in manner, even expressing sympathy 
for my unfortunate position; but this man was 
brusque and unpleasant. When I ceased speaking 
he turned around in his chair and in a loud voice 
said: 

“Oh, no, I cannot excuse you for any such reason.” 
I replied, “Your Honor, what better reason could I 
have than those given you ?” To which he answered, 
“Don’t come to me and ask me to give you reasons 
for excuse from jury duty. You must serve ; we want 
men that cannot get away from their business.” Then 
he turned his back on me. 

For a brief moment I stood there silent. The 
judge commenced writing at his desk. The other 
men were watching me. I thought of what it meant 


The Tyranny of the Jury Law 


235 


in the critical condition of my affairs to take me from 
my office for two weeks and the thought made me 
desperate. 

Springing forward, I seized the judge by the arm, 
and while his whole body shook with the nervous 
trembling of my grasp, I shouted at him: “Do you 
know what you are doing? Would you put a man 
who is almost at the point of nervous prostration or 
perhaps worse in a jury box? Do you think I am in 
any condition to do jury duty? The other men gath- 
ered around and endeavored to calm me. The judge, 
who had risen from his chair, dropped into it again 
with a frightened look and, with a voice scarcely 
audible, said: “Your mental condition will excuse 
you,” and then asked one of the men to assist me out 
of the office. And I needed his assistance. I was so 
weak I could hardly stand. I wondered afterwards 
the judge did not commit me for examination as to 
my sanity. 

In the name of justice, why should a man be 
placed in such a position ? Why compelled to humil- 
iate himself by laying bare to any man, judge though 
he be, his poverty and then have to argue on that 
point as an excuse for not doing jury duty? If a 
man is prepared to prove that it would be a serious 
injury to himself to serve, he ought to be excused. 
How could a man do justice in a trial before him 
when his mind is racked with worry over his own 
affairs ? It is unfair to all — plaintiff, defendant and 
juryman alike. 


CHAPTER XLV 


BITTER TRIALS 

With the removal to Plainfield came the com- 
mencement of a period of bitter trial and almost un- 
remitting struggle for existence. 

Norman, though he occasionally assisted me with 
small amounts, never redeemed his promise to do the 
joint-account business which was to pay those debts, 
as much as mine, and recoup my losses. Meanwhile 
he was doing well and reported to be making money 
fast. 

The months passed by and, though I managed to 
make the payments to Mrs. Slater, I was running 
behind on my bills at the office and at home. Some- 
thing must be done. I tried in every way to get 
Norman to pay me part of the considerable sum 
which stood against him on my books — he was heart- 
less. He knew I would not sue him, and if I did he 
could keep the matter hanging in the courts for 
years. Then I resolved to get some money out of 
him in another way. 

He was accustomed to make certain deliveries 
through our office, the payments being made to us. 


Bitter Trials 


237 


In the next settlement I made with him I deducted 
a few hundred dollars, sufficient to pay my most 
pressing bills, and gave him credit for the amount. 

I felt I had a perfect legal and moral right to keep 
this money; but a few days later thought perhaps, 
as a matter of policy, I had made a mistake, as he 
could throw more or less business my way which I 
might lose if he resented my action. I then wrote 
him expressing my regret for the necessity of the 
step. At first he took it very nicely, told me not to 
speak of it, and that it was all right; but later he 
did his utmost to divert business from me, and then 
my only regret was that I had not kept the whole 
amount. 

From an office-boy at four dollars per week I had 
brought him up in my business, launched him out 
as a broker, supported him liberally apd made him 
successful. All he ever had in the world he owed 
either directly or indirectly to me. He wronged me 
in the old days before the failure in 1895, again in 
this later failure, and now added insult to injury in 
his base ingratitude. 

In these days of trial I was often severely pressed 
for ready money in small amounts for current ex- 
penses. My old friend, Will Curtice, had responded 
to my occasional requests for loans, which had been 
invariably returned, though not always with prompt- 
ness. The time came when he declined, saying he 
could not do it, which meant he would not, for he 
was becoming a rich man. At a later period, and 


238 


Bitter Trials 


when my credit with butcher and grocer had reached 
the limit, I wrote him for fifty dollars. I told him 
it was for bread and butter for my family and, that 
whether he made the loan or not, I should never 
again appeal to him. He returned my letter, first 
writing across it, “It is quite impossible.” A few 
days later I met him in the street. He saw me com- 
ing and deliberately cut me. 

Another friend gone — one of the old “Immortal 
Ten” — the man who had composed that song con- 
taining the lines: 

“And Stowe has been so generous since, 

That all the crowd have dubbed him Prince.” 

At one of our old dinner parties I heard Curtice 
say, in the course of conversation, “Friends are of 
no use except for what you can get out of them.” 
He laughed when he said it and I supposed it was a 
thoughtless joke — perhaps he meant it seriously. 


CHAPTER XLYI 

AT THE BRINK OF THE GRAVE 

It is the afternoon of January 4th, 1903. I am go- 
ing from my office, home to that devoted woman who 
has in all my bitter trials stood by me brave as a 
lion, always the same loving, cheerful, true wife — 
the mother of my children, those dear ones who have 
done their best to aid in her heroic efforts to sustain 
my courage and comfort me in my awful distress of 
mind. 

On my way to the train I stop at a drug store. To 
the clerk I say, “A bottle of morphine pills.” He 
looks at me an instant and says, “For neuralgia, 
perhaps?” I reply, “Yes.” He hands me a book. I 
register a fictitious name and address, take the bot- 
tle and leave the store. How easy it is to get posses- 
sion of this deadly drug which brings rest in a sleep 
that know T s no end. 

How can I go into that home and greet my loved 
ones w r ith this awful thought in my mind? What 
am I about to do? Am I going to plunge that poor 
family into the lowest depths of grief and shame ? 


240 


At the Brink of the Grave 


God, forgive me ! I do not think of that phase. And 
why do I not think of it? 

The brain is weary to the straining point. Noth- 
ing but abject poverty, cruel, gaunt want stares me 
in the face. Can I see my loved ones hungry with- 
out a roof to shelter them? I am penniless. The 
tradesmen will give no further credit. The landlord 
wants his rent and I have not a friend in the world 
that I can think of to help me. I have humiliated 
myself in the dust in my efforts to borrow a little 
money. I have asked it as a loan or charity, if they 
chose to regard it as the same thing, from men of 
wealth who have known me intimately for many 
years, but all in vain. 

And so I am going to destroy myself that my fam- 
ily may get immediate relief through the paltry few 
thousand dollars of life insurance, all that remains 
of the nearly two hundred thousand dollars I carried 
in my prosperous days. 

I have thought of what will be the probable course 
of events after my death. Probably my wife, per- 
haps with Mrs. Slater, will buy a small farm and 
raise chickens or something of that sort, out of which 
all can get a living until the boys can help to some- 
thing better; anyway, they will be better off with- 
out me. 

Fallacious reasoning to ease the mind for a cow- 
ard’s act, say you? Perhaps — but I could not see 
it so at that time. All that I could grasp in my men- 
tal state was the fact that I had no money and knew 


At the Brink of the Grave 


241 


not where to get any. Money must be found for my 
family to exist, and my death would bring it — con- 
sequently I must die. 

On the ferryboat I stood on the rear deck and 
looked back at the lights of the great city. It was, 
so I believed, my last farewell to the scene of my 
busy life. I was strangely calm. 

On the train I read the evening paper as usual 
and, after arriving at my station, walked home. The 
fond greeting from all, never omitted, seemed that 
evening especially tender. There was no poverty of 
love, whatever the material conditions might be. Our 
simple dinner over, the evening was passed as usual 
and we retired. 

The details of the awful horror which followed 
would inflict too much pain on me to write and give 
my readers no pleasure to read. For many hours 
the physicians labored at their almost hopeless task 
and finally dragged me back from the brink of the 
grave. 

Before leaving my office I had mailed a letter to 
a friend in the trade requesting him to take charge 
of my business matters the following morning. He 
did so, and in the evening came to my home, having 
kept himself informed during the day, by telephone, 
of my condition. He told me he had come to help, 
and before anything else wanted my promise never 
again to repeat my action. I had already given a 
sacred vow to my poor wife to that effect, and so 
help me God, come what may, I will never break it ! 


242 


At the Brink of the Grave 


This friend and another gentleman in the trade 
provided me with money to pay my pressing bills. 
They amounted to less than three hundred dollars, 
and in a few days I was able to return to the office. 
Meanwhile Mrs. Slater had been informed of the ex- 
act situation. It was a terrible blow to her, but she 
did all she could to help by releasing me from a large 
part of the indebtedness and agreeing to accept a 
very low rate of interest on the remainder. 


CHAPTER XL VII 

AGAIN AT THE HELM 

When I again took up my work at the office it was 
with courage renewed and fortified by a week of 
constant effort on the part of my wife to make me 
realize more than ever before how much easier it 
w r ould be for her to bear any trials, no matter how 
severe, with me, rather than a life of ease, even were 
that possible, without me. While with loving care 
she nursed me back to health, she showed me the 
folly of what I had attempted and, though making 
that point clear and forceful, avoided saying one 
word that would add to the depression which weighed 
me down. Despite the frightful shock she had re- 
ceived, her love remained faithful and undiminished. 
It was marvelous — the love and courage of that 
noble woman ! 

With a determination to succeed in at least mak- 
ing a living and sufficient beside to meet the pay- 
ments to Mrs. Slater, I put my whole soul in my 
work. I do not suppose I really worked any harder 


244 


Again at the Helm 


than I had for years past, but it seemed so, and in a 
measure my efforts were rewarded. 

We had on our books a good many customers who 
were small buyers. The rest of the trade not com- 
peting with us so actively for this class as for the 
larger business, made it easier for us to hold it. 
Most of these firms we had been selling for more 
than a quarter of a century. 

There had recently been much complaint from 
these customers of the prices we charged them, com- 
pared with published quotations of the wholesale 
market. 

On the occasion of a call at the office one of them 
asked if it would not be practicable in some way to 
buy to better advantage? We explained to him the 
terms on which the business in importation lots was 
done. If we were in a position to buy our supplies 
direct in large lots, as importers, paying cash against 
the documents on arrival of the steamer and then 
await discharge of cargo, after which would come 
weighing up in small lots and making shipments, we 
could afford to sell at lower figures, but we had not 
the capital to do the business. 

He then suggested that the difficulty of lack of 
capital could be surmounted by making our sales on 
terms of payment of approximate amount with or- 
der. I was so eager for business that I probably did 
not give to the possibility of loss to me in carrying 
out such a suggestion the consideration it should 
have had. At all events, we mailed a few letters to 


Again at the Helm 


245 


customers explaining the matter, and a business on 
this basis was commenced and quickly grew to large 
proportions. 

This fact made it dangerous, for the larger the 
business the greater the risk. We had to continually 
have an interest in the market either on one side or 
the other, and if the business was large our interest 
must be in proportion. 

For some time the business was most satisfactory. 
My judgment of the market was correct, our custo- 
mers were well pleased, and w r e made good profits. 
I was greatly encouraged with the outlook and be- 
lieved my troubles were at an end. During this 
period a certain large interest used our office as a 
medium for some market manipulation, and while 
this was going on that interest stood behind us in 
this business. 

Then came the other side of the story. We made 
losses. The market went against us when our inter- 
est in it was considerable, and the losses, not a large 
amount, still, were to us staggering. Compared with 
the business we had been doing, there were but few 
contracts outstanding. We tried to complete them. 
The material had arrived, we arranged to have it 
weighed up, and it was invoiced, but we could not 
make the shipments. 

Just as events culminated there came to me in a 
most unexpected manner an opportunity for a con- 
nection in another line of business which promised 
large and almost immediate results. 


246 


Again at the Helm 


I was through with the struggle in my own trade. 
Without large capital it was useless to go on; and 
even with this, the business had been so cut into by 
the trusts, the opportunity for making money was 
far less than in the earlier years of my career. In the 
new line I would meet with strangers and must of 
necessity carry with me no complications. I be- 
lieved in a comparatively short time I could make 
enough money to pay my creditors, and with that 
end in mind I embraced the opportunity. 

To my wife I said simply that my affairs had be- 
come involved, and then started on the journey to my 
new field, many hundreds of miles from New York, 
leaving her to adjust the old matters, with my aid, 
through correspondence. 

All but two or three of the smaller creditors 
showed the utmost kindness, expressing their sym- 
pathy and the willingness to give me time to pay 
my debts. This was all I asked. 

The new connection was all that was represented. 
I liked the business, my particular work was con- 
genial, and so good were the prospects I was as 
nearly happy as a man of my domestic taste could be 
when separated from his wife. 

Early in 1904 it became necessary for me to spend 
some time in a city near New York. My wife then 
gave up the house, stored her furniture and, with the 
family, joined me. 

It was here the hardest blow of all was dealt me. 
One of the small creditors, in an attempt to collect 


Again at the Helm 


247 


his debt through the office of the district attorney, 
caused my arrest. This came at a time when my 
efforts were about to show tangible results, and its 
publicity severed my business connection. Instead of 
hastening the payment of his claim, my creditor by 
his action delayed it. The blow was a crushing one 
in every way — to my financial prospects and to my 
mental and physical condition. 


CHAPTER XLVIII 


A NIGHTMARE 

“In the eyes of the law a man is innocent until 
proven guilty; the world says he is guilty until 
proven innocent.” 

I was taken to the district attorney’s office, treat- 
ed with courtesy and told I would be released on 
giving five hundred dollars bail. I believed I could 
do this and was given the day to accomplish it. By 
telephone and telegraph I tried to find the friends 
whom I thought would surely stand by me to that 
extent in this emergency, especially as there was no 
possible risk of loss. They had but to take the five 
hundred dollars out of their bank and deposit it in 
another place quite as secure. Sooner or later it 
would come back to them. 

When the day was ended I was poorer by the 
amount of the tolls I had paid and had not found 
the friend. This one would like to do it, but could 
not; another had gone to luncheon and would call 
me up on the telephone as soon as he returned — he 
must be still at luncheon. Every one I tried had 
some excuse. 


A Nightmare 


249 


To my wife I wrote fully, suggesting to her a 
number of people to whom she might appeal in her 
efforts to effect my release. Then I settled down to 
grim despair. 

For three full weeks my wife labored unceasingly 
to get bail. The amount had been reduced, first to 
three hundred, then to two hundred dollars, and 
finally she secured the latter sum and I returned to 
her almost a wreck mentally and physically. 

Among the people I had told my wife to apply to 
was Mr. Mallison, who, it will be remembered, was 
the man to whom I sold the Wood and Slater inter- 
ests in certain properties. 

For some time before our second failure he had 
been doing business in our office on joint account, 
and some of the money he had contributed was lost. 
In reply to my wife’s letter he gave these losses as a 
reason for not helping, and added that I had ad- 
mitted to his lawyer I had not made the purchases 
for which his money was to be used for margins. 

I know the man and do not believe he would 
knowingly make a statement contrary to the facts, 
but I cannot conceive how he could possibly place 
such a construction on anything that was said by 
me at the interview he referred to, or at any other 
time. It is absolutely and unqualifiedly false. Not 
only did I make clear that every dollar of his money 
had been applied as intended, but I urged his lawyer 
to examine the books and trace the losses, and un- 
derstood he would do so. When he did not I sup- 


250 


A Nightmare 


posed he was entirely satisfied and did not want to 
further mix in my affairs for fear that the creditors 
would try to hold his client responsible as an undis- 
closed partner. 

Is it reasonable to suppose that I would appeal to 
Mallison for help if there had been the slightest 
shadow of foundation for the statement in his letter? 
The idea is preposterous. 

My condition was now such that rest was impera- 
tive. In three weeks I had lost in weight twenty-one 
pounds and my nerves were almost in a state of total 
collapse. I hoped a few weeks in the country would 
renew my physical strength and mental equilibrium, 
but I had underestimated the force of the shock. All 
the summer and fall the weakness remained, and it 
was only toward the close of the year I was able to 
resume my labors. This enforced rest was made 
possible through the kindness of two or three gentle- 
men in the trade and one or two other friends who 
contributed the funds to meet my family expenses. 

When bail was given I was told trial would come 
early in October. Letters of inquiry to the district 
attorney brought only indefinite replies, simply tell- 
ing me I would be notified when wanted, and there 
the matter ended. 


CHAPTER XLIX 

RETROSPECTION 

Nearly forty, or, to be exact, thirty-nine years of 
my life have been covered by this narrative, now 
drawing to its conclusion. As I sit at my writing 
table, memory carries me back to the first chapter, 
and even before — to my school-boy days, those happy 
days when care was unknown. 

The panorama moves slowly on before my mental 
vision and I see myself a youth at the portal of man- 
hood. 

Into view now comes the fair girl who honored 
and blessed me with a love that has proved almost 
beyond the power of conception. As I raise my eyes 
from the paper they rest on her dear face. Wonder- 
ful to relate, no lines of care do I discover. Save 
for the premature and very becoming silver of her 
hair and the matronly development of figure, there is 
but little indication of the many years that have 
passed since we joined hands in our voyage of life. 
As her glance meets mine she flashes at me, as in 
the days of yore, the same sweet smile of love and 
tenderness. 


252 


Retrospection 


The early years of our married life appear before 
me. Those years when periods of worry alternated 
w T ith others of freedom from care. The years of my 
early struggle against heavy odds, to gain success. 
The years of “Love’s young dream,” how sweet that 
side of my life seemed then and how far sweeter, 
deeper, stronger seems now the love of our later 
years through the triumphs and trials those years 
brought with them. 

To my mind comes the successive births of our 
children and the joy the advent of each brought into 
our family circle. 

And now I see myself in the delirium of that well- 
nigh fatal illness when but for my devoted wife’s 
careful nursing the occasion for writing this narra- 
tive would never have arisen. 

The scene changes, and year after year of pros- 
perity rolls into view. Those years when, with 
wealth steadily increasing, I reveled in the business 
I had created and reared to such large proportions. 
The thought of the contrast with present conditions 
for an instant stops the beating of my heart — and 
yet I think “ ’Tis better to have loved and lost than 
never to have loved at all.” 

Now comes that day when I considered the ques- 
tion of retiring from business. Oh ! why did not the 
fates then guide me rightly? What years of misery 
would have been spared to those I loved — and yet 
that very love was the motive that swayed me. 

The pictures change. Clouds gather and darken 


Retrospection 


253 


the sunshine of my life. Crashes of thunder sound 
in my ears and the storm of my first failure is upon 
me. “The ship founders.” God help the passengers 
and crew ! 

The boat is launched and gathers them in — can it 
make the shore? Here and there a little smooth 
water, an occasional rift of light through the clouds 
— alas! only to be followed by greater darkness — 
and the pictures cease. But no, there is still one to 
come. 

The boat is aground. Mountains of surf dash on 
the rocky coast, seeking to tear the frail craft to 
pieces. In the perspective behold the sea of many 
years, studded with the crafts of those friends of my 
former good ship Prosperity. How many I see that 
owe to me, some only a pennant, many a sail or two, 
and others the stanch deck on which they stand. 

Do they see our signal of distress? Beyond a 
doubt. Do they answer it? Wait. 

Speeding toward us, with the flag of true friend- 
ship flying at the peak, comes a gallant ship. In let- 
ters of gold the name Dwiglvt Temple stands out 
from the bow. Many times we have asked aid from 
its owner and never once has it been refused, though 
in our great wreck his loss was heavy. Here comes 
to our relief the good ship George Todd, a friend 
that has never failed ; but in many of our dark hours 
his ship has sailed in foreign waters, far removed 
from our troubled seas. Then comes sailing right 
for us Charlie Fitch, never but once appealed to, and 


254 


Retrospection 


then did his best and instantly to help us. And now 
one more, the Garleton > Cushing — a true friend, a 
heart of oak, but the craft too small to avail in a 
heavy sea — and that is all! 

How about the great ocean steamer which could 
take on board our whole boat and never miss the 
cost ? Has the captain seen our signals ? Seen them ? 
— yes, again and again, written in letters of blood 
drawn from our hearts, and ignored them. Freighted 
with probably fifty millions of dollars, that ship 
goes from port to port doing good. It must be so, 
for these philanthropic acts have been widely ad- 
vertised. But while we have sailed in the same 
waters for nearly forty years, our boat is now too 
small to be noticed, though once we did receive a 
keg of ship biscuit for which we still owe and are not 
ungrateful. 

And there is another large steamer — how about 
that one? No help for us there. We sailed in com- 
pany for years, but now that steamer, the Viedler, 
is bound on a voyage of discovery to the North Pole 
and has no desire to aid a craft which has met with 
disaster, even though manned by old friends. 

And so it is with all the rest. 

See all those small boats — not one but has seen 
our signals of trouble. We did not expect from them 
material aid. They are too small to give it. But 
though for many years we have been friends, helping 
them time and time again in their days of need, they 
have forgotten us. From them we looked for the 


Retrospection 


255 


touch of sympathy, the firm grasp of the hand, the 
friendly word of encouragement, and we looked in 
vain. Not even to the woman came a single line to 
lighten her burden. 

It’s the way of the world. Thank God, I have been 
able to chronicle exceptions, even though so few. 


CHAPTER L 


A DREAM 

It is midnight — my narrative is finished. As the 
pen drops from my hand the weary eyes close and I 
sleep. 

The living-room in our bungalow. Before the great 
stone fireplace, sitting side by side, my wife and I. 
Her hand rests in mine as we gaze into the flames 
ascending from the fragrant logs resting on the mas- 
sive wrought-iron andirons. These and the caribou 
head looking down on us from above the high mantel 
came from the hall at “Redstone.” The chime rings 
out as in the days long gone by from the dear old 
clock re-purchased from Charlie Wood. 

As we look around the room in the soft firelight, 
we see the few old friends left from that awful 
slaughter when our household gods were sold; and 
best of all, in the low shelves at one end of the room 
are the dearly loved volumes, all that remain of our 
once fine library. 

We leave our chairs and, going arm in arm to the 
window, stand watching the moon rise out of the sea. 
All is peace and contentment in this modest home 


A Dream 


259 


wherein we plan to end our days, for at last we have 
found rest. 

The maid comes in the room, lights the lamps, 
draws the draperies over the windows, and again we 
are alone. From my writing table I take up the let- 
ter received from my publishers by the last mail. It 
has been read and re-read, but again I read it aloud. 
It tells such good news. 

From the profits of my book I have already satis- 
fied my creditors, repaid Mrs. Slater, bought our 
home and secured a moderate income. “Still,” the 
publishers write, “there seems no end to the demand 
for “Romance and Tragedy,” and they enclose a 
handsome cheque, one of many that have reached me. 

My wife kisses me and — I awaken. 

’Tis but a dream — will it come true? 

The public must decide. 


CHAPTER LI 


“from god and the king” 

After the “Dream” came a trying period; long 
and exasperating delay in the publication of the 
book ; frequent promising but unsuccessful efforts to 
secure a business connection that would afford a 
living for my family; a continued strain which my 
nervous system was ill prepared to stand, and al- 
ways, just when it seemed as though there was no 
way to turn, some light and help came. 

My contract with my publisher called for some 
financial contribution from me — not a large sum ex- 
pressed in dollars, but monumental in the effort re- 
quired to raise it. Most of the amount was gained 
through advance sales of the book, the rest I was 
forced, reluctantly, to raise in small loans. This was 
accomplished after much correspondence, chiefly with 
my former customers in the trade. 

Amongst others to whom I wrote requesting as- 
sistance in this matter was one man, formerly a 
broker in New York, and to whose firm I had given 
a good deal of business in the old days. He is now 
connected with the Chicago branch of one of the 














































REDSTONE”— THE HALL 











“From God and the King” 


261 


trusts. He returned my letter after writing across 
it in red ink : “Had you not held your head so d — n 
high in your halcyon days, I might respond. You 
should look to the ‘Four Hundred’ for help.” 

Consumed with envy in the days of my success, it 
afforded him, no doubt, some gratification to kick a 
man when he is down, but his effort brought only 
a smile — the animus was so apparent and the effort 
so feeble. 

At last ! The book was published. 

A few copies were sent to the press; the advance 
orders filled, and then I commenced a canvass by 
mail to dispose of the remainder of the edition. Per- 
haps one-quarter of my sales were to strangers, the 
rest to people who knew me, or knew of me, in busi- 
ness and social life. 

The press reviews were very favorable. This was 
gratifying, but the letters that came to me from all 
over the country from friends, acquaintances and 
strangers brought rays of sushine that, after the 
dark days, were dazzling in their brilliancy. 

A few friends and a number of acquaintances I ex- 
pected would be kindly critics, but when I gave to 
the world the outpourings of my heart, with the sale 
of the book went the right of criticism, and as there 
are always some who cannot or will not understand 
us, I was prepared for anything — except what I re- 
ceived. 

I could not have foreseen how strangers, in remit- 
ting for their copy, would send a cheque for many 


262 


“From God and the King” 


times its published price, writing that “the book 
was worth it.” I never dreamed of the large number 
of acquaintances that must now be enrolled as 
friends — not the old sort, but the real thing. Nor 
could I have expected the material aid that came to 
me when so sorely needed would have come so large- 
ly from those who knew me only through my book. 
Least of all, did I have any premonition that within 
a few months after its publication the book would 
be the medium of bringing me in personal contact 
with a gentleman who has made possible, in a great 
measure, the fulfilment of my “Dream.” 

And yet such is the fact ! 

After an exchange of letters and in response to his 
kind invitation, I called at his office, and as he 
grasped my hand I felt that I had found a friend — 
how great a friend I did not then know. 

The first call was followed by many others, and 
I was always welcomed with the cordial greeting 
that is born of sincerity and sired by true friendship. 
He took a keen interest in my affairs, discussed with 
me my plans for again becoming a “moneymaker,” 
and was ever ready to lend a helping hand to bridge 
over the hard spots that were more or less frequent. 

Among other business prospects, there was held 
out to me the possibility of becoming manager of a 
branch office of a New York Stock Exchange firm in 
Washington, D. C. This position I lost in competi- 
tion with a man who had already an established 
clientele. Then came an offer from another Wash- 


“From God and the King” 


265 


ington concern, an opening in a congenial and re- 
munerative business that would give me only a small 
income to commence with, but which, through a pros- 
pective early organization of the concern, presented 
great possibilities. This I accepted. 

As soon as it was decided we were to settle in 
Washington or its vicinity, came the longing for a 
country home, not only as a matter of choice, but the 
.practical side appealed to us. 

We believed we could make a farm certainly self- 
supporting, and probably a paying proposition. Our 
amateur experience in earlier years had always been 
successful. We did not think there was much to be 
made in farming, as it is generally understood, but 
the farm would give us our living and certain spe- 
cialties we thought could be relied on for profit 
Hot-house cucumbers, cold frame violets, mushrooms, 
and last but by no means least, the putting up “home- 
made,” in glass, of vegetables and fruits for sale to 
private buyers. In this department my wife is a 
master hand. In our prosperous days she always 
superintended such work in our home and always 
with unqualified success. No better market than 
Washington could be desired for such products, and 
we longed for the opportunity to cater to it. 

We talked it all over one evening and called it a 
fairy tale, it seemed so far beyond the bounds of our 
possibilities. 

As a singular coincidence, there came to me the 
following day a catalogue of farms, published by a 


266 


“From God and the King” 


Washington real estate agent. Looking it over, I 
clipped from its columns the following: 

334. $8,000. 150 acres. “Chestnut Ridge” Elegant 

property delightfully located. Land of excellent quality, 
adapted to all agricultural purposes; 50 or more acres of 
valuable woodland, embracing every variety, suitable for 
timber ties and telegraph poles; many cool and pleasant 
groves; handsome three-story mansion; library, parlor, 
dining-room, butler’s room, pantry, kitchen, laundry, bath, 
seven bedrooms, attic and one cupola room; open fire- 
place, grate, latrobe; approach to mansion through drive- 
way lined with evergreens, encircling beautiful lawn; 
water supply ample and pure; two springs, two wells and 
a constant running stream, with a tributary run, adding 
greatly to the possibilities of the place. A lake, 150x75 
feet, furnishes pleasure in summer and sufficient ice in 
winter. Every kind and variety of fruit; small fruit and 
grapes in abundance. The outhouses embrace office, ice- 
house, gardener’s house, stone dairy, barn with loft and 
wagon sheds, hay barracks and extensive poultry houses, 
systematically arranged for handling chickens and eggs. 
This choice property is only fourteen miles from Balti- 
more, near the Washington Boulevard, and overlooks the 
surrounding country for miles; magnificent scenery and a 
healthy, lovely home worthy the attention of a connoisseur. 

“The very place we want,” said my wife, and I 
agreed with her. 

I carried the clipping in my pocket, and a day or 
two later, when calling on my friend, I showed it to 
him. He, like myself, is an enthusiastic lover of the 
country. We talked it all over, and as I was leaving 
him he said : “I don’t know but I might help you in 
the matter of that farm.” 

I do not think I grasped all that remark meant. 
Certainly I had no idea then that within a few 













































. 

- 

















CHESTNUT RIDGE 











“From God and the King” 


269 


months I should be writing this chapter in my “Den” 
at “Chestnut Ridge.” 

I went to Washington, looked at the property, 
and after looking at sixty-two other farms in Mary- 
land and Virginia, returned to New York and was 
authorized by my friend to make an offer for the 
place. 

Before making the offer I wanted my wife to see 
the farm. When she did so, she was delighted. 

The day we spent in roaming over the broad acres, 
with the happy thought in our hearts that this was 
to be. our home, will ever be a red-letter day in our 
calendar of life. 

After a few days’ negotiations the purchase was 
closed, and when the necessary repairs to buildings 
had been completed and the farm equipped we took 
possession.* 

* To the author, it seems unnatural to close this chapter 
without any expression of the one all-absorbing feeling 
that almost overpowered us as we realized we again had a 
home and yet he cannot ignore the wishes of his friend. 


CHAPTER LII 


A FOUNDATION PRINCIPLE 
“It is well to profit by the folly of others.” 

One morning in my mail I found a letter, from 
which I quote : 

“I have read your book with much interest. If it is to 
have a large sale and you wish it to do good, as I presume 
you do, you should write another chapter explaining that 
you failed because you lost sight of the one thing neces- 
sary to permanent success, and state clearly what it is.” 

Though I had no personal acquaintance with the 
writer, I knew him as one of New York’s most suc- 
cessful business men, a man whose name carries 
great weight. 

A personal interview followed, and I learned from 
him a lesson, too late, perhaps , for me to reap the 
benefit, but I am passing it on in the hope that it 
will not fall on altogether barren soil, though I know 
how difficult it is to persuade young men of the wis- 
dom to be gained through another’s experience. 

Economy in personal and family expenditures was 
the text from which the lesson was drawn. 

In my prosperous days, when I made large annual 
profits, I did not realize how foolishly extravagant 
was my scale of living, for every year I was adding 






















CHESTNUT RIDGE 






A Foundation Principle 


271 


a handsome amount to my accumulations which were 
steadily increasing, and yet, looked at from the 
standpoint of this clear-headed, successful business 
man, I was expending more than what should have 
been regarded as my income. 

It will be remembered that in the early years of 
my career, shortly after my marriage, I was handi- 
capped by the loss through a stock speculation of all 
my savings. This was followed by dull times and in- 
creasing burdens, and it was not until the year 1878 
that my profits materially exceeded my absolutely 
necessary expenditures. During that year I lived 
comfortably and happily on an expenditure of three 
thousand dollars. My profits were twelve thousand, 
and I started the year 1879 with nine thousand dol- 
lars to the good. 

Taking my expenditure of three thousand dollars 
as a necessary basis, no matter what my profits in 
1879 were, I was warranted in spending only the 
three thousand dollars plus the interest on the nine 
thousand, which was my capital. This was the prin- 
ciple imparted to me by the man who had put it in 
practice and who believes it to be a foundation prin- 
ciple in business, and that neglecting to make it the 
cornerstone is the cause of nine out of ten of the 
failures in the business world. 

Then he asked me to figure out how it would have 
worked in my case. I did so and was astounded at 
the results. I may add it gave me many hours of 
hard thinking over “what might have been.” 


272 


A Foundation Principle 


In order to make the working of the principle en- 
tirely clear to my readers, I have tabulated the fig- 
ures for fifteen years, calculating interest at six per 
cent, and showing for each year the profits of my 
business, the permissible expenditure and the amount 
of capital as it would have been on December 31st : 


Year 

Profits 

Expenditures 

Capital 
Dec. 31st 

1878 

$12,000 

$3,000 

$9,000 

1879 

16,000 

3,540 

22,000 

1880 

21,000 

4,320 

40,000 

1881 

28,000 

5,400 

<I>5,000 

1882 

21,000 

6,900 

83,000 

1883 

24,000 

7,980 

104,000 

1884 

30,000 

9,240 

131,000 

1885 

15,000 

10,860 

143,000 

1886 

36,000 

11,580 

176,000 

1887 

61,000 

13,560 

234,000 

1888 

120,000 

17,040 

351,000 

1889 

72,000 

24,060 

420,000 

1890 

68,000 

28,200 

485,000 

1891 

80,000 

32,100 

562,000 

1892 

70,000 

36,720 

629,000 


This brings me up to January, 1893, the period 
when I considered the question of retiring from busi- 
ness and decided against doing so for the reason 
that the income from my capital if invested would 
have been far below my annual expenditures. 

How would it have been had I lived the fifteen 
years on the scale as figured out? 


A Foundation Principle 


273 


My capital invested at six per cent, would have 
realized an income greater than my expenditure in 
any previous year ! But look a little further. 

If during all those years I had been in possession 
of such amounts of capital as the evolution of this 
principle would have brought me, I am perfectly 
confident that the profits of my business, handsome 
as they were, would have been much larger. The 
money would have produced earnings far in excess 
of six per cent., and in January, 1893, the capital 
would surely have been set down in seven figures. 

Surely those longed-for years of travel would 
have been mine — or, suppose I had remained in busi- 
ness? I could not have failed, for my capital 
would have safely carried me over. 

And now to conclude the brief addition to my 
narrative. 

The late Robert Ingersoll once said : 

“Hope is the only universal liar who maintains his rep- 
utation for veracity.” 

Hope promised me, in the prospective reorganiza- 
tion of the Washington concern, the certainty of a 
complete fulfilment of my “Dream.” Hope lied ! The 
reorganization is indefinitely postponed. Now, hope 
promises me success in a prospective business con- 
nection in Baltimore, and I still have faith in him. 

Once more in active business life with all the old 
energy and ambition and in perfect health, I may yet 
have another fifteen years to put in practice a prin- 
ciple I know to be sound. 


CHAPTER LIII 


LIFE ON THE FARM 

Our home life on the farm brought us increased 
happiness, freedom from care and much pleasure. 
We had some pleasant neighbors, people of refine- 
ment, with whom we soon became socially acquaint- 
ed, and house guests were often with us. 

The sixty acres of virgin forest, with many im- 
mense trees and a little stream that runs through it, 
we loved to wander through, always accompanied 
by our dog Rex, a Gordon setter, a companion for 
whom we all had a strong affection. 

Rabbits and gray squirrels were numerous, and 
occasionally a fox would be in evidence. There were 
many birds of brilliant plumage, and often we would 
see quail (called partridge in Maryland). On only a 
few occasions did we see a snake, and mosquitoes — 
never ! 

The products of the farm for home use we enjoyed 
to the limit. All kinds of vegetables, always fresh 
and of the best variety. 

My friend, the late J. H. Hale, known as the 


Life on the Farm 


275 


“Georgia Peach King/’ had an extensive nursery in 
South Glastonbury, Connecticut. He sent us four 
thousand strawberry plants. These gave us large 
crops of the finest berries. Our cantaloupes and 
watermelons were delicious, and were planted and 
cultivated to give us long seasons. 

The fruit orchards, apples, Bartlett, Duchess and 
Seckel pears, splendid cherries — shipped a ton and 
a quarter of these to market in one week ! 

And the chickens! white Leghorns. This depart- 
ment was managed by my wife, and she was wonder- 
fully successful. All the neighbors were amazed at 
her success. Winter and summer large quantities of 
eggs were marketed, and in cold weather, when oth- 
ers were hardly getting eggs enough for home con- 
sumption, her shipments were as regular as clock- 
work. Many of the eggs went to a large hospital, 
and on account of quality a premium over the market 
price was paid. 

The enclosed runs for the chickens were very large. 
Often just before sundown a lot of them were let out 
on our lawn of several acres. It was interesting to 
watch them as my wife, standing at a little distance, 
would call out by names she had given them one 
after another, and only the hens called would come 
and feed out of her hand, while she stroked their 
feathers and talked to them. 

They knew they had a good mistress. 

The crops the first season, owing to good weather 
for farming, were fair, considering the fact that the 


276 


Life on the Farm 


soil had run down through lack of proper fertilizing 
and cultivation. 

We had a large cider press, and in season the ap- 
ples not sold were turned into vinegar and sold to 
dealers. We also put up for home use some cham- 
pagne cider, bottled with a raisin in each bottle. 
This was fine, but the prize-winners in this line were 
my wife’s home-made wines. Grape and cherry wine, 
peach brandy, apricot and blackberry cordial. These 
all were the best ever, and before the days of prohi- 
bition we enjoyed them. “Them days have gone for- 
ever” — perhaps ? 

The Washington proposition had fallen through, 
the partners, after a serious disagreement, dissolved 
partnership. 

Then came an offer for the management of the 
Baltimore branch of a Philadelphia life insurance 
company. This also failed to materialize, and I did 
not regret it very deeply. The man at the head in 
Philadelphia did not impress me favorably, and not 
long afterwards the concern went out of existence. 

My New York friend, through whom we secured 
our farm home, kept in close touch with us. He was 
anxious I should get out a second edition of my book. 
With his financial aid, I published it myself, and the 
returns were very satisfactory. This proposition 
kept me busy for several months. 

In Baltimore many buyers, after reading my nar- 
rative, wrote me delightful letters, telling me of 
their deep interest and asking me when in town to 


Life on the Farm 


277 


me many warm friends and the intimacy has con- 
call on them. This personal intercourse has brought 
tinued. 

In several cases I was retained to do some diplo- 
matic work. Each case occupied but a few weeks 
and the compensation was satisfactory. 

Through the summers of nineteen hundred and 
seven, eight and nine farm work was pushed to the 
limit. Of the hundred acres of cleared land about 
eighty-five acres were brought under cultivation, but 
the weather was against us. Many times heavy 
showers were threatened, and often Baltimore, less 
than fifteen miles away, would be drenched, while 
not a drop fell on our scorched land. Kesult: Poor 
crops ! 

Truly the farmer is a great gambler ! He must bet 
against the weather every year of his life. 


CHAPTER LIV 


“ The best laid schemes o’ mice cm’ men 
Gang aft a-gley.” 

*In the fifty-first chapter of my narrative, second 
edition, I related how there came to ns “from God 
and the King,” Chestnut Ridge, our farm home, 
where since June, 1906, we have lived the simple life. 
“The King is dead !” 

On September 21st, 1909, sitting at my desk in my 
Den, I read in the New York Herald the announce- 
ment of his death. 

With a heart bowed down with grief at the loss of 
my friend, I wrote the following : 

TRIBUTE TO MR. 

To the Editor of the Herald: 

The death of has brought immeasurable 

sorrow to all who knew him. Sitting at my desk, in the 
home made possible by him, I read the news this morning. 
As I gazed out of the window, through the foliage of the 
trees, the sun, shining so brightly a moment before, seemed 
dimmed with a pall of sadness. 

I can hear his voice, see his smile, feel the firm clasp of 
his hand,,. Alas! Never again save in fond memory. 

It is but a few years since Mr. came into my life 

and yet I feel as though I had always known him. 

With his wonderful ability and keen foresight, which 
made him so successful in business affairs, were combined 
the tenderness of a woman and the nobility of a king. 


279 


In his love for country life he was an enthusiast. He 
once remarked to me, “I love the very smell of fresh 
ploughed earth,” and he meant it. 

“His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him 
that nature might stand up and say to all the world, This 
was a man!” 

Walter E. Stowe, 
Chestnut Ridge, Jessup, Md. 

Sept. 21, 1909. 

Published in the New York Herald Sept. 24, 1909. 

The events following the death of Mr. have 

been such as to impel me to record in this manner 
the relations that existed between us. 

He was my friend, and in my fifty-nine years of 
life, through a wide experience with men, I never 
knew his equal. 

For existing conditions, no shadow of blame do I 
attribute to him. I know, and others in interest 
knotv, what was the intention of my friend as to Chest- 
nut Ridge, and with sorrow untainted by so much 
as a trace of selfishness for his loss, I shall ever 
revere his memory. 

In our first interview, January, 1906, Mr. 

told me to “call on him whenever I needed help over 
the hard spots.” 

My narrative told of my prospective business con- 
nection in Washington and how, when I expressed 

a desire for a country home, Mr. said: “I 

don’t know but what I might help you in the matter 
of that farm.” 

He sent me to Washington to look at properties in 
the vicinity. On my return I told him there were 


280 


two places, either of which I would like to own : Ely- 
wood, at Vienna, Va., held at $13,000, and Chestnut 
Ridge, held at $8,000. 

He asked me what I would offer for these, and 
when I replied $10,000 for Elywood and $7,500 for 
Chestnut Ridge, he authorized me to buy either, for 
cash, telling me to take my wife to look at them be- 
fore making any offers. I asked : “Don’t you want 
to see the properties before I buy?” He replied: 
“They suit you, don’t they?” I answered, “Yes.” 
He then said, “Why should I want to look at them ?” 

He then gave me a cheque to bind the bargain if 
my offer should be accepted. While he was drawing 

this cheque I said: “Mr. , I do not know when 

I shall be able to repay you. I do not know when I 
can commence payment of interest.” “Do not let 
that trouble you,” said he, “put it out of your mind 
entirely and wait and see what the future will de- 
velop.” 

I then said: “Let me buy the property in your 
name?” “No,” he said, “I do not want you to do 
that.” I said : “I will give you a mortgage.” “No,” 
said he, “I do not want a mortgage.” I then said : 
“I will take title as Ella Gr. Stowe, Trustee.” “Leave 
off the Trustee,” was his reply. 

I offered $10,000 for Elywood and it was refused. 
I then offered $7,500 for Chestnut Ridge and closed 
the purchase. I found there was an incumbrance in 
the form of a redeemable ground rent, and that I as- 
sumed. 


281 


When I reported the purchase Mr. told me 

to give him an estimate of my requirements for re- 
pairs, equipment, etc., and added: “You will find 
you underestimate the amounts, in which case call 
on me for what further sums may be necessary.” I 
then told him I should like to give him notes for 
these advances, and he replied : “Well, if you prefer 
to do so, you may. Perhaps it will seem more like 
business to you,” and he laughed as he said it. Later 
I sent him the deed, to keep in his safe for me and 
also, for his approval, a form of trust agreement 
which I wanted to have executed, but this he would 
not permit. 

As I was leaving Mr. ’s office a few days be- 

fore we took possession of our home he said: “Mr. 
Stowe, one thing I want to say to you: Do not 
run in debt down there. When you need money, 
and you will find you often will, always call on me.” 

Mr. was right when he said I would under- 

estimate my financial needs. Buildings very much 
out of repair and land, so far as crop-bearing capac- 
ity was concerned, run down to the last degree. This 
was the condition when we bought the property. The 
repairs cost double what I estimated, but this we 
were through with when we took possession, June 
2nd, 1906. But the land! It seemed as though I 
w~as always burying money in it, and yet I could see 
from season to season I was steadily gaining and 
bringing each year a larger acreage to the crop- 
bearing stage. Of course, while pushing the work, 


282 


I did my utmost to keep the expense down. When 

money was needed I called on Mr. and the 

cheque never failed to come. 

Although he had promised me a visit, and I often 

urged him to fix a date, Mr. never saw the 

property. Occasionally I would get to New York, 
and wlfen chatting with him of my experience as a 
farmer he always treated it in a jocular way, laughed 
at me when I told him of my expectation of bringing 
the farm to a self-supporting basis and said he did 
not believe I could do it, though he never tried to 
check my ardor, nor failed to give me his financial 
aid. 

Mr. was intensely interested in my book. 

At his request I sent him for perusal many of the 
hundreds of delightful letters received from my 
readers. He wanted the book placed in every public 
library, and knew of my correspondence with Mr. 
Carnegie, the late Mr. J. P. Morgan and Mr. J. D. 
Rockefeller, with that end in view. He said to me on 
more than one occasion, if I did not succeed with 
these gentlemen, he might consider doing it himself. 

Last spring, with the farm in good condition and 
the largest acreage on record planted with growing 
crops, all flourishing, I felt that the year had arrived 
when Chestnut Ridge would balance accounts. 

At the end of May Mr. wrote me asking my 

“expectations for financial requirements for the rest 
of the year,” and I wrote him $500, which he sent by 
return mail. 


283 


In June I put into shape a plan I have always had 
in mind for developing Chestnut Ridge into a resi- 
dential park. 

There are features of my plan, unique in the vicin- 
ity of Baltimore, and having in a non-committal way 
tested the market for such an enterprise, I found an 
enthusiasm that convinced me that it would be a 
success. 

I submitted the plan to Mr. — for his ap- 

proval, telling him I might be able to finance it in 
Baltimore, but would probably have to pay off the 
existing ground rent lien and mortgage the entire 
property. 

Mr. wrote me his approval of my plan and 

asked information about the money requirements, 
which I sent him in detail. 

On July 2nd, he wrote me he had not been well 
and would not want to consider putting up the 
money until he felt better. He said, however, if nec- 
essary to carry out the plan, he might pay off the 
$3,000 lien, and added : “Would not think it wise to 
borrow money on mortgage to carry out the plan.” 

It was his last letter to me. 

As the spring passed into early summer and week 
after week went by with no rain, there came the 
worry over crop conditions. Hay and grain crops 
failed — fruit failed and still we hoped for corn, the 
chief staple. July and August passed, no rain ; and 
instead of large crops for sale, it began to be a ques- 
tion whether there would be sufficient to feed the 
stock over until next season. 


284 


The $500 received in May was long since gone ; no 

money coming in from crops, Mr. ill at his 

summer home, how ill I had no idea, and letters of 
inquiry were unanswered. Meanwhile, the expenses 
going on and bills accumulating. The strain was 
severe and we could only bear it as best we could. 

After the shock of the death of our friend came a 
realizing sense of our situation. We felt our home 
was secured to us, but the failure of our crops made 
it necessary to take some action to liquidate the 
debts, now amounting to several hundred dollars. 
My first thought was to put a small mortgage on the 
property, pay the debts and then make an effort to 
finance the development, but, thinking possibly Mr. 

might have left some instructions, we decided 

to delay action. 

My readers will please understand that I had no 
reason to believe or expect I would in any w T ay be a 

beneficiary in Mr. ’s will, and such a thought 

never entered my mind. My reference above means 
simply this : My latest correspondence with him was 
regarding the development of our farm into a resi- 
dential park. He approved the plan, would have 
financed it had he lived, and I thought possibly he 
might have left instructions that this should be done. 

The following from the New York Tribune is in- 
serted here as evidence of the importance of the 
estate, a fact which should be considered relatively 
in reading what follows : 


285 


ESTATE $5,000,000 

The will of , head of the firm of 

& , who died at Burlington, Vt., on September 20 

last, was filed for probate in the surrogate’s office yester- 
day. 

It disposes of an estate which is estimated at over 
$5,000,000, which is divided by specific bequests among 
the children of the testator and those of his first wife, 

and the four children of . The residuary 

legatees are , his son; , his 

daughter, and , the son of his daughter, 

the late . There are no public or charitable 

are named as executors. 


In October a Baltimore concern sent me to New 
York for a few days on a business matter. On the 
19th, having heard nothing from the executors, I 

wrote to Mr. , telling him I was in New York, 

and asking if he wished to see me, for an appoint- 
ment. He replied, asking me to call on the 21st. 
On entering his office I met one of the executors, 
with whom I was already acquainted, and his 

greeting, as also that of Mr. 1 — , was entirely 

cordial. I was introduced to the other executors, 

and then had an interview with Mr. , no one 

else being present. 

He opened the interview with: “Mr. Stowe, how 
are things down there ?” I told him we were not 
very happy, and then explained the financial situa- 
tion and failure of crops. He said : “Do you know 
how much money in all you received from father ?” 
I replied, “Yes, $15,500.” He said, “How did you un- 
derstand those advances. I replied : “To be returned 


286 


with interest, when I am- able to do so ” He said : 
“Who owns the personal property?” I asked what 
he meant? He changed his question to: “Was the 
live stock and farm equipment bought with money 
sent you by father?” I replied: “Of course.” 

We then talked of the plan for development and 
finally came again to the debts. I told him of the 
urgency of these and my wish that there was some 
way by which I could take home with me the funds 
for settlement. He said: “When are you going 
home ?” I replied : “Saturday.” He then said : “The 
quickest way for you to get that money is to send me 
as soon as possible statements of the debts, all 
money received from father and how it has been 
expended and the details of your plan for develop- 
ment. As soon as I get these statements I will rush 
the matter through with the executors.” 

I promised to send them and the interview closed. 

I arrived home Saturday night, October 23rd. On 
Monday I mailed a letter, stating as soon as I could 
prepare them I would send the other statements and 
enclosed a memo, of the current accounts, saying: 
“These are so pressing I must do something at once 
toward liquidation, and hope you will find a way of 
helping me out.” The amount was about nine hun- 
dred dollars. 

By return mail Mr. wrote : “I will take the 

matter up with the executors as soon as I get your 
statement and will arrange for the accommodation 
you ask for.” 


287 


There was nothing equivocal about that letter, and 
I told some of the creditors whom I happened to 
meet that a cheque would reach me shortly. I mailed 
the other statement the same day and, with the 
strain eased, I had the first good night’s sleep that 
had come to me in many weeks. 

A few days passed and no news. I tried by mail 

to hasten matters. On November 4th Mr. 

wrote : “I will try and get down to Jessup on Satur- 
day. I have some papers to go over with you and I 
think matters can probably be arranged to suit all 
concerned.” I phoned to New York and arranged to 

meet Mr. in Baltimore Saturday morning. 

In this interview he said : “The executors are barred 
from going into the development enterprise and the 
only way it can be arranged is to have the property 
transferred to me. Then I and my sister will have 
the estate’s claim charged against our inheritance 
and we will go on with you in the development.” I 
asked about the cheque to pay the bills and he re- 
plied: “Nothing can be done about that until the 
property has been transferred.” We then w T ent to 
the office of his attorney. After a private interview 
I joined him and, with the attorney, w~e talked the 
matter over. We went into the relations existing 
between his father and myself. He said : “Neither I 
nor the executors have any doubt that it was the 
intent of father you should not be disturbed, but — 
there is nothing in his papers to show it.” 

I again brought up the question of the payment of 


288 


the debts, and so eager was I to make a start at 
liquidation that I asked him to advance $500 and let 
the balance come a few days later. This he would 
not do, but said: “If the papers (he wanted a bill of 
sale for the personal property as well as deed for 
real estate) are executed at once I am sure at least 
$500 will reach you by Wednesday.” I said it would 
be extremely annoying to have the papers recorded 
before the bills are paid, and he replied : a That can 
be arranged easy enough by delaying the papers un- 
til the cheque has reached you.” 

I was talking with the son of my best friend. What 
could I do but accept in good faith all he said and 
acquiesce. 

We went to Jessup on the noon train. After 

luncheon Mr. went over the property with 

me — was pleased with it and confirmed my belief in 
its availability for development. He asked me what 
monthly allowance I would require while carrying 
on the work — talked about sites, water supply, sew- 
erage, etc., and gave me the impression that he was 
in full spirit with the enterprise. Later the attor- 
ney and notary came to the house. While talking 
over the matter and before the signing of the papers 

Mr. said to my wife, in the presence of his 

lawyer, what he had previously said to me about 
his father’s intention that we should never be dis- 
turbed in our home, and he added: “Mrs. Stowe, 
there is no intention whatever of depriving you of 
your home, but this is the only way in which the 
development can be carried out.” 


289 


The papers were signed and Mr. carried 

them to New York. 

On November 9th Mr. wrote me : “I have sent 

my personal cheque to Mr. (his attorney), 

and if you will see him he will arrange matters with 
you.” I called on the attorney November 11th, ex- 
pecting to receive at least $500. He told me he had 
received the papers with instructions to record and 
also a cheque for but $250. This cheque had a 
string tied to it and was not available. 

The attorney understood that $500 was to be sent 
and the papers not recorded until I had received the 
cheque and paid (so far as the amount would go) 
my bills. 

At my request he wrote for further instructions. 
November 12th he received a telegram instructing 
immediate action in recording the papers, and on the 
13th a letter stating the $250 was to be disbursed by 
him in payment only of claims that might become a 
lien on the property. 

Then I awoke! 

I have, I trust, made clear to my readers, through 
the extracts from interviews and letters, consecu- 
tively quoted, the rapid progression up to the point 
of my awakening of this assault on my faith in hu- 
man nature. 

Mr. , because he is the son of his father, is 

the one man in all the world who could have turned 
the trick. 

On November 15th I wrote him : “Can you give me 


290 


an approximate idea of when the development can 
be started ?” 

On November 16th he replied : “At the present 
time until I can make some arrangements with the 
executors, I cannot give any approximate or definite 
idea in regard to the development project’ 7 — and yet 
it is within my knowledge that on that very' day he 
had in mind the prompt sale of the property ! 

The net value of the property transferred is pos- 
sibly four thousand dollars. The amount I received 

from Mr. is $15,500. This fact alone takes 

his relations with me out of the realm of business. 

We were asked to transfer the property “as the 
only way of helping us in the development plan.” 
Think you, my reader, in view of the facts related, 
there is any intention of helping us? We were prom- 
ised the funds to pay our debts and were promised 
the cheque should be received by us before the papers 
were recorded. 

The papers have been recorded and we have re- 
ceived no cheque. 

Are we warranted in saying that through misrep- 
resentation we have been led to sign away the home 
that our good friend intended should never be taken 
from us? 

Is it not a fact that everything we possess is taken 
from us at a time of life when the blow is over- 
whelming — and for what purpose? That this large 
estate, left to his heirs by a man who never in his life 


291 


did a mean nor an unkind act should profit to the 
extent of a paltry four thousand dollars. 

Oh ! ye men of wealth, if you would have the gen- 
erous deeds you do in life live after you, look well 
to it that some proviso be made that those who fol- 
low after may not ruthlessly thwart your good in- 
tentions. 


* This chapter was written in November, 1909. 


CHAPTER LV 


ON THE DEFENSE 

One of my Baltimore friends, a prominent lawyer, 
at once procured an injunction preventing action, 
and brought suit to have the transfer of the prop- 
erty set aside. 

The case was in the United States Court and tes- 
timony taken before a referee. While it was pending 
I had succeeded in paying the current and accumu- 
lated bills and was relieved from that strain. 

Several months passed before the referee’s report, 
and arguments of counsel were heard in court. 

Defendant admitted the statement — and his at- 
torney testified he heard defendant tell us: a There 
was no intention, in taking the transfer, of depriving 
us of our home.” 

Defendant testified he refused to send any money 
to pay current accounts. His attorney testified de- 
fendant told him he had promised to send us $500. 

Argument was heard June 24th. The Court told 
the attorneys the case ought to be settled — that de- 
fendants should pay costs — should pay Mrs. Stowe 
$250 (they had paid $250, taxes, etc., that would 
become a lien on the property) and give us release 


On the Defense 


293 


in full. The Court expressed belief in the honesty of 
our testimony, but said we had taken too much for 
granted, and as in the end the estate would obtain 
the property, it was not right to incur further liti- 
gation by setting aside the transfer. 

Later, defendants, by attorney, came into Court, 
declining to pay any money or give the release, and 
were told by the Court if they did not pay the money 
the transfer would be set aside on ground of fraud. 

A decree was entered — defendants paid the costs 
and paid Mrs. Stowe $250. 

Lord Coleridge hailed a cabman on the street in London: 
“Take me to the Courts of Justice!” “Where’s that, your 
Lordship?” said cabby. “What! you a London cabman and 
don’t know where the Law Courts are?” Oh, the Law 
Courts,” replied the cabby, “Your Lordship said the Courts 
of Justice.” 

On November 10th, 1910, we left the farm and a 
few days later it was sold at auction. 

The property was sold at a very low price, and a 
few years later in a re-sale the buyer doubled his 
money. 

The attorney for the estate, with whom later I en- 
joyed an intimate friendship, told me that after all 
expenses were deducted the net gain to the estate 
was only about two thousand dollars. 

He was one of nature’s noblemen — a man of high 
character, loved and respected by all who knew him 
As an officer he was in the World War, and shortly 
before the armistice was killed in action. 

Requiescat in pace. 


294 


On the Defense 


When the case was settled we arranged to vacate 
the farm in November. 

At first we thought of returning to New York, 
then decided to store our furniture and board in 
Baltimore for six months. 

We secured very pleasant quarters in Denmore 
Park, and after we were settled I told my wife I 
was going into business again. 

She asked me what kind of business. To which 
I replied : “I do not know, but I am going to take a 
small office in the Calvert Building, where I have a 
number of friends, and get busy.” 

My first step was to have multigraphed the fol- 
lowing circular : 

A gentleman who, first as broker, then as commission 
merchant, and finally as importer and dealer in New York, 
created a business which under his sole management grew 
to a volume of fifteen millions a year — and later met with 
reverses — is now resident and has opened an office in Bal- 
timore, where he has an extensive acquaintance and not a 
few friends amongst the best class of business and pro- 
fessional men — bankers, merchants in various lines, real 
estate operators, physicians and lawyers. 

In perfect health and with unlimited energy, he seeks 
connection as local representative, with one or more firms, 
in any line of business not requiring technical knowledge. 
Is a convincing talker with a faculty for rubbing men the 
right way and leading them to his way of thinking. Bank, 
commercial and personal references. 

Will accept very moderate compensation to commence 
with and a fair equivalent for services when value is 
proved. 

If you are interested, please address for further par- 
ticulars 

Walter E. Stowe, 

Calvert Building, Baltimore, Md. 


On the Defense 


295 


Copies of this I mailed to a number of manufac- 
turers in several cities. 

Courteous replies were promptly received, but the 
only concerns who were interested wanted me to 
start in by raising for them additional capital. 

That was not the sort of connection I was looking 
for. 

What next ? 

In my office I had a list of nearly four thousand 
concerns in the metal and allied trades. Many of 
these I had known more or less intimately in busi- 
ness relations during my forty years, boy and man, 
in the metal trade. 

In addition to this, was a list of several thousand 
readers of my book who had written me of their in- 
terest in the narrative and strong personal interest 
in the writer. 

Surely, I thought, here is a wonderful clientele 
for a mail-order list. 

I will try it ! 

In selecting articles for sale there were three es- 
sential points. It must be an honest proposition — 
no fakes — fair value at the price and something that 
would appeal to my clientele. 

I soon made contracts with several manufacturers. 

My experience at the start was surprising. 

After having some condensed descriptive matter 
printed, I was ready for a trial. I selected fifty- 
eight names in my New York list and personally 
wrote to each a brief letter, enclosing the printed 


296 


On the Defense 


matter. These letters were written and mailed on a 
Saturday, delivered Monday, and in my mail Tues- 
day I found forty-three orders ! 

Very encouraging, it seemed to me, and from that 
time I pushed the business vigorously. 

In October, 1911, as a side issue and an adver- 
tising help to my business, I published the first num- 
ber of a small monthly magazine. It was printed 
beautifully on cameo paper and well illustrated. It 
opened with the following: 

ANNOUNCEMENT 

On The Way , as it makes its bow in introduction to a 
very select and discriminating audience, will, on this oc- 
casion only, assume the personality of the man behind the 
pen. Hereafter successive numbers, as they appear, will 
carry to our clientele information properly belonging in a 
publication for the office. We expect to make it interesting. 

Are the words “our clientele” used advisedly? Read the 
analysis. 

Our address books are of three classes. First is the list 
of firms and corporations in the metal and allied trades, 
most of whom have known the writer, boy and man, for 
nearly forty years. There are nearly four thousand of 
these, transacting in the aggregate a volume of business 
of enormous magnitude, with an invested capital of fabu- 
lous proportions. Second is the list of nearly three thou- 
sand individuals, men high up in financial and commercial 
life, who have written the writer of their interest in his 
narrative, and of their strong personal interest in him. 
Here we have officers in great industrial and other corpo- 
rations, presidents of banks and trust companies, of rail- 
road and insurance companies, partners in prominent firms 
engaged in various lines of business, bankers and profes- 
sional men of wide reputation. Third is a list now com- 
prising several hundred of the same class, addresses sent 
us by friends. This list is constantly increasing. 


On the Defense 


297 


May we call this “our clientele**? We think so. Meas- 
ured by the position in commercial, financial and profes- 
sional life, their wealth and importance in the community, 
the names on these combined lists embrace the very cream 
of America’s commercial, financial and professional aris- 
tocracy, and we do not believe there is another list in ex- 
istence in which the personal equation is so strong nor the 
average so high. 

Granting the field is there, how about the man? Ability? 
Modesty keeps us silent. Health? Perfect. Energy and 
determination? Without limit. Age? “A man is as old as 
he feels.” The writer feels ten years younger than a year 
ago 
don 

be a millionaire today had I always done so. (I owe the 
lady that admission.) 

With our coat off, sleeves rolled up and one foot on the 
first round of the ladder, we are On The Way up, and 
with the help of the Giver of all good and the patronage 
of our friends, we feel that we shall climb toward the top, 
slowly, perhaps, but surely! Now! We’re off. 

* * * * 

Our first experience in journalism was ever so many 
years ago, back in the early eighties, when we created and 
established as a weekly journal for the metal trades the 
American Metal Market. It was a paying proposition 
when we parted company in 1888, and today, as a daily, 
it is a prosperous and recognized organ in the metal trade. 


and his better-half says he looks it. If ever in doubt, 
t play trumps — “just leave it to your wife.” I would 


Many subscriptions, a few advertisements and a 
number of complimentary letters were received, but 
after the November number was issued I realized 
I had started something I could not carry to the 
income point without more capital, and I discon- 
tinued it. I offered to return the subscriptions re- 
ceived, but this was declined. 

The venture cost me a loss of over eight hundred 
dollars. 


CHAPTER LVI 


A BRIEF SUMMARY 

We remained at Denmore Park until April, 1913. 
Occasionally we looked at properties with the inten- 
tion of purchasing a home, and on one occasion came 
very near closing for an attractive place about an 
hour and a half from the city. We were glad after- 
wards the deal fell through. It was too far from 
town. 

For several reasons we desired a change and, 
noticing an advertisement in the morning paper, I 
called to look at rooms in a boarding house on Ro- 
land Avenue, close to Roland Park. The location 
was ideal, attractive grounds, well shaded, spacious 
porch, high elevation, Roland Park water and only 
twenty-five minutes from my office. 

The next day I took my wife to look at the rooms. 

The house was kept by two sisters, owners, and 
we were more than favorably impressed with both. 
We engaged rooms, and when leaving I said to one 
of the girls who stood on the porch with us : “I met 
you yesterday for the first time and I feel as if I had 
known you all your life.” 


A Brief Summary 


299 


We moved in April 30th, 1913, and remained there 
until May 3rd, 1922, leaving because the owners 
have retired from the business, in which they had 
been very successful. The house was taken down, 
and in its place, as I write these lines, they are 
building a very handsome apartment house. 

During the nine years the acquaintance changed 
to strong friendship, and this has grown as the years 
progressed. My wife and I have a sincere affec- 
tion for both the girls, and in our intimate rela- 
tions it has seemed like one family. 

Since coming to Maryland our two younger daugh- 
ters and younger son have happily married. Thus 
our six children, with their mates, have become 
twelve, and we have six grand-daugliters and one 
grand-son. 

With one exception the children live in New York 
and its suburbs. All are devoted to us. They have 
tried for several years to induce us to divide all our 
time among them in their homes, but this we could 
not do. The writer is not a “quitter” and we know 
that, with our perfect health, we are far happier 
living as we do than we would be if we gave up our 
independence. 

For two months we have occupied an attractively 
furnished apartment of a gentleman, a recent ac- 
quaintance who, with his wife, went to Eroupe, and 
after the nearly twelve years of boarding it has 
seemed like another honeymoon. 

We surely have enjoyed it. 


CHAPTER LVII 


A BLESSING TO MANKIND 

In July, 1893, came a financial panic that exceeded 
the record in its effect on the money market. 

After the strain was over I had for the first time 
an attack of eczema. My physician sent me at once 
to a prominent specialist. Almost my entire body, 
except my face, was covered. 

The doctor gave me an ointment to apply to the 
surface, medicine to take internally, bromides to 
put me to sleep and put me on a diet. 

For several months I suffered from the irritation 
in many parts of my body. Under constant daily 
treatment the eruption slowly healed, except on the 
right arm below the elbow. This was stubborn and 
seemed hopeless. Months passed by and that one 
irritating spot did a lot to take the joy out of life. 

I became tired of going to the doctor, made up 
my mind I would never get rid of that one spot, and 
mentioned that impression one night to my wife. She 
asked me why I did not try the prescription of a 
Paris specialist my friend had given me several 
years before my trouble. I had forgotten it and said 
I did not have it. She said : “I have it,” and brought 


A Blessing to Mankind 


301 


it to me from her files. The next day I had it put up 
by a druggist. Within a very few days the eruption 
entirely disappeared and has never returned. 

I was amazed at the astonishing results and, hav- 
ing so many personal friends who frequently spoke 
to me of their suffering from annoying irritation of 
the skin that did not yield to treatment by their phy- 
sicians, I had the prescription put up in small jars 
and kept these both at my office and home, giving a 
jar to any friend who mentioned the trouble. 

During the past twenty-five years there have prob- 
ably been hundreds of such cases. Not once did the 
remedy fail to end the annoyance permanently. 

In August, 1921, on my way home from the office, 
I called on a friend. As he arose from his desk to 
greet me I noticed he looked much depressed. I 
asked him what was the trouble, and he told me he 
was greatly worried about his wife, who had been 
suffering for nearly a year with eczema, and spe- 
cialists and physicians had failed to relieve her. 

I then told him of my personal experience and the 
help it had brought to many of my friends. 

He said he would like to try it and, sending me 
home in his car, I gave his man what was left of the 
samples. 

This was on a Saturday. The following Monday 
on my way down town I stopped at his office. He 
looked much relieved, told me his wife really be- 
lieved it was helping her and wanted a full prescrip- 
tion as soon as he could get it. This I procured at 
once. 


302 


A Blessing to Mankind 


The relief was amazing in its rapidity. The case 
was a malignant one and covered much surface. Two 
or three prescriptions were used, and the trouble was 
practically ended. 

My friend and his wife both expressed a feeling of 
deep gratitude for the relief I had brought them, and 
he said: “Mr. Stowe, we ought to put that on the 
market.” 

I told him I had for years a strong feeling that, 
regardless of any possible pecuniary benefit, I owed 
it to my fellow-beings to do so, but I was not in posi- 
tion to finance it — that a few years ago I had 
thought of trying it as a mail-order proposition, had 
written to Washington regarding a license and re- 
ceived a reply telling me if the product was to be 
manufactured in Maryland no national license was 
required and referring me to the authority in Balti- 
more. I called on this gentleman and told him the 
story. He said no license was needed and then asked 
if he could get a sample for his wife, who was a suf- 
ferer. I gave it to him and her trouble was ended. 

On looking further into the mail-order matter, I 
found the advertising end was too large a financial 
problem for me to undertake, and the fact that I had 
discovered through correspondence that the great 
number of advertisements of so-called remedies for 
skin diseases were of a character I did not want to 
be classed with, caused me to drop the matter. 

We talked it over, estimated what was needed to 
thoroughly demonstrate the wonderful power of the 


A Blessing to Mankind 


303 


remedy, and then my friend said he would finance it. 

Immediate steps were taken to get matters in 
shape for active business. A trade-mark was adopt- 
ed and registered. 

Before incorporating we decided to thoroughly 
demonstrate the possibilities of the remedy and 
prove beyond a shadow of doubt its efficiency. 

This work over a period of six months proved in 
the results so astonishing it was difficult to believe 
and yet the indisputable evidence was before us. 

It must be remembered the prescription from the 
noted Paris specialist, long since deceased, came to 
me through my friend as a remedy for eczema. The 
only knowledge I had of it was that it was abso- 
lutely antiseptic. I knew nothing of its efficiency 
for any disease except eczema. 

There was no advertising during the period of dem- 
onstration. At the start I mentioned to a few 
friends as I met them what I was doing, and in sev- 
eral cases they desired to try it in their own family 
Each jar that was taken acted like a microbe. A 
tried it, was quickly cured, and he told B and C. 
They tried it, same results, and told their friends, 
and the demand grew. 

Orders began to come from strangers in various 
cities, all unsolicited. So far as possible we secured 
reports of results: Complete cure in many cases — 
wonderful relief and steady improvement in others, 
and not a single failure to relieve in any case ! Many 
of the cases were malignant. One gentleman on whom 


304 


A Blessing to Mankind 


I had been requested to call said to me as he held his 
hands out: “Mr. Stowe, look at those hands! For 
fourteen years I have never gone to bed without 
cotton gloves, as I could not bear the touch of my 
hands on my body. I have spent thousands of dol- 
lars with specialists and doctors and have tried 
about everything advertised. At times have remained 
away from my business because I could not stand 
the nervous strain.” 

As I looked I did not wonder. I never saw any- 
thing like it. The hands from wrist to ends of 
fingers looked as if a steel plow had been run through 
to the bone and the furrows calloused to the last 
gree. He has used three jars and his hands are as 
smooth as mine. It seems a miracle! There were 
other cases equally remarkable, and there was no 
question as to the efficiency of the remedy for eczema. 

Inquiries as to the possibilities of the remedy for 
other diseases were numerous. 

A young lady friend with a beautiful complexion, 
worried over frequent attacks of festers on her face. 
My wife told me she believed the remedy would help 
her. I said I thought festers were a blood disease, 
but it cannot possibly hurt her. Let her try it. She 
did so, and the trouble ended. 

A young man with face practically covered with 
red pimples used two jars and the annoyance disap- 
peared. 

In several cases cuts, some rather severe, were 
quickly healed. With burns, the same experience. 


A Belssing to Mankind 


305 


A gentleman called at the office. Said his wife had 
a large boil on the back of her neck. It had been 
lanced, but looked very angry, and he wanted to try 
the remedy. In less than a week it was gone. 

A girl employed in a large factory had cut her 
finger and it became infected. The doctor treated it 
a day or two, and it became worse. The remedy was 
applied, and in a few days the patient was entirely 
well. 

Returning from luncheon one day, a gentleman 
hailed me as I was about to take the elevator to my 
office. He said : “Mr. Stowe, that remedy of yours is 
the most wonderful thing I ever heard of. Two years 
ago I had a large wart on the side of my face. The 
doctor sent me to the hospital and it was removed 
with X-ray. Cost me twenty-five dollars. A week 
ago my wife asked me if I knew there were two warts 
coming on my nose, one on each nostril, and asked 
me not to wait, but to go to the hospital and have 
them taken off. Two or three days later she again 
came to me, said the warts were growing larger and 
begged me to go to the hospital at once. I told her 
I had a remedy I was going to try. Last night I did 
so — one application. Mr. Stowe, can you see the 
warts ?” 

They were gone. One application ! 

A boy about four years old was covered with hives. 
Four applications and not a hive left ! Several other 
cases — results the same. 

In a large department store one of the employees 


306 


A Blessing to Mankind 


tried the remedy. Twenty-three of her confreres 
have joined the growing army. 

The use of the remedy for sunburn brought many 
enthusiastic friends. Immediate relief of the burn- 
ing sensation and not a blister. Mosquito bites re- 
lieved as if by magic ! 

Surely in this proposition I am bringing ”a bless- 
ing to mankind.” 


CHAPTER LVIII 


TWO LETTERS 


These two letters are included in my narrative, 
after much thought and some hesitation. Readers 
will please note the dates : 


An Bord des Dampfers, 

“KAISERIN AUGUSTE VICTORIA,” 

den Sep. 2, 1909. 

Hamburg-Amerika Linie. 


My Dear Sir: 

Coming away, I brought along your book and have read 
it through with care. And, knowing by experience what it 
is to have a true wife (though she has passed away, as 
have three of our seven children), I know how to appreci- 
ate your joys and to sympathize with you in your troubles. 

Your readers cannot restrain a feeling of admiration for 
your many generous impulses which found kind expres- 
sion in your treatment of your friends, especially when 
they were in financial straits ; nor can they repress a tinge 
of regret as they read of coldness and unrequited help in 
time of your adversity, even on the part of some who were 
abundantly able to assist you. 

Your loyalty and devotion to your good wife are alto- 
gether admirable. This and more go on record to the credit 
of yourself and your book. From what I read into your 
heart from your own writings I believe you will permit me 
to express my opinion as to one of the main causes of your 
misfortunes, for, though you were engaged in a business 
of severe fluctuations and some difficulties, it was never- 
theless a good business and you proved it so by your suc- 
cess. One of your friendly critics has told you it was your 
extravagance in expenditures, of a personal character. 
Undoubtedly that was one cause, and a prolific one. Thou- 


308 


Two Letters 


sands of fortunes have been wrecked by it. I have known 
and loved men cast away on that rock. 

May I mention it that I started life without money, that 
I am still in a wholesale firm that I entered just fifty 
years ago, that I am president of one of our largest banks 
and of a railroad, etc., simply that you may believe that 
long experience possibly qualifies me to form a true opin- 
ion as to another contributing cause of your mistakes, if 
not in your business career, at least in the writing of your 
book? 

I believe that you have not truly valued our Bible as a 
guide, or taken a personal interest in the religion that it 
inculcates. You have preferred high life; the society of 
the people who esteem the casino above the church, danc- 
ing above devotion; gaming, tally-ho coaches and wine 
suppers before the Book of Proverbs and the 12th Chapter 
of Romans. 

My friend, I beg not to be misunderstood as inveighing 
against a glass of wine, a game of whist or an automobile, 
or a fine dinner. In some of these I have indulged, as I 
have also, like yourself, in large contributions to charity 
and benevolence and poor relations. I condemn not life’s 
pleasures. I think that you have devoted yourself to them 
to the detriment of your duties as a genuine Christian. 

In more than one place in your book you disparage our 
common Christianity, which has done more with a little 
money’s help than all other religions combined have done 
in many preceding centuries, and more than all the money 
of the world lavished outside the pale of religion has done 
from the days of King Solomon down to this day. 

Referring to your several strictures upon church offi- 
cials, Sunday-school teachers, vestrymen, etc., I beg to say 
it is a mistake to expect perfection from these. We are all 
liable to err. But from long experience and close observa- 
tion, I declare that the percentage of hypocrites is very 
much smaller than that of business rascals who make no 
pretense of being religious. Now in my thirty-first year 
as the superintendent of a large Sunday-school (875 mem- 
bers), I have been intimately acquainted with hundreds of 
my teachers and subordinate officers, without ever know- 
ing of more than one who did not live up to a true Chris- 
tian standard in all respects. I am of those who believe it 


Two Letters 


309 


is the life, the character, and not the church or the pro- 
fession, that makes men and women and saves people. 
Neither you nor I will say that because a few brokers or 
merchants go wrong, their calling is to be reviled. It oc- 
curs to me to ask if Charlie Wood, Albert Caine, William 
Curtice or Mr. Viedler were church members or Sunday- 
school teachers, or was Mr. Wall Street Man (page 204) 
one of them? Were not any of the friends who stood by 
you, or any of your creditors who treated you nicely, con- 
nected with church or Sunday-school ? The fact that a few 
who were thus connected proved false to you, or at least 
ungrateful and unworthy of your friendship, should that 
justify the slurs on the institutions that stand for the best 
in religion and morals that we find frequently in your book, 
notably on pages 125, 149, 196 and 207? Were none of the 
noble fellows (pages 208 and 246) glad to trace their kind- 
ness to you to a good mother, father or church organiza- 
tion? Whether or not Mrs. Slater was jealous for the 
good name of some Sunday-school, I do not know, but I know 
that she was a good Christian. 

You may not care to answer this letter, but I would be 
pleased if in some way you would set yourself right if you 
are wrong on this subject, so as to remove all occasion for 
adverse criticism from such of your readers as 
Yours sincerely, 


[From the Baltimore Southern Methodist, Aug. 28, 1919.] 
PRAYER LIFE IN BUSINESS 


[The following letter is a page from the experience of a 
widely known business man and author who at one time 
was a prominent figure in New York. His remarkable ex- 
perience will tend to strengthen the faith of others. But 
after all, should such a faith be remarkable? — Ed.] 

Dear Doctor Harris: 

If you did not know the man behind the pen so well, 
through our many, though brief, personal meetings and a 
more intimate knowledge gained through the reading of 


310 


Two Letters 


my narrative covering forty years of my life, I should hes- 
itate long before sending you this account of a phase of 
my life experience that has so deeply impressed me in the, 
to me, wonderful evidence of the efficacy of prayer and the 
loving, merciful care and guidance our Heavenly Father 
extends to His children. 

Many times the thought has come to me, that if I could, 
by giving testimony of a few of many incidents, through 
some medium that would reach the weary souls, suffering 
under the material trials that come to so many, I might, 
in a spirit of humility and with proper reverence, do just a 
little in the way of helping others. 

Born and reared in a religious atmosphere, I was early 
taught to have faith in God. To my sorrow and deep re- 
gret, in my years of prosperity, while involved in building 
up a great business and living an active social life, I was 
delinquent. 

While maintaining my honesty and purity of personal 
character, avoiding temptations, adhering as I had always 
done, to the proper observance of the Sabbath and always 
helping my fellow-men, I realized in later years that this 
was to a great extent a matter of habit more than of con- 
science and proper devotion to God. 

When reverses came and my entire fortune was swept 
away in a few weeks, I did not even then realize there was 
only One to whom I should have looked for aid. Desper- 
ately I struggled for several years to regain my position 
in the business world. To God, went up my daily prayers 
for help and guidance, but I know the faith was lacking — 
at least, in part. 

As I look back I see the first ray of light. 

In those years of struggle, occasional visions of hope 
were followed by periods of terrible depression. A friend, 
calling at my office, as he approached my desk said: “What 
is the trouble? You look down in the mouth.” I replied: 
“I have the blues.” “Financial trouble, I suppose,” said 
he. “Do you need money today?” I replied, “No.” “To- 
morrow?” he asked. Again I said, “No.” “Then tell me,” 
he said, “why worry over the day after tomorrow? Did 
blues ever help a creditor or pay a dollar of debt?” “No,” 
I replied. “Did they ever help you? Cannot you see they 


Two Letters 


311 


only sap your energy, hamper your efforts and make you 
miserable?” 

As my friend was leaving he said: “What you should do 
is trust in God and stop worrying. Let each day take care 
of itself.” 

That night, after hours of thought, I knew my friend 
was right, and ever since I have lived twenty-four hours 
at a time and never worry, because my faith in God is 
finally and absolutely established and can never become 
weakened. 

Having been out of business for several years, in No- 
vember, 1910, 1 opened an office and with very small capital 
commenced a little enterprise I am still carrying on. It is 
during these years there has come to me many times an- 
swers to prayer, so vivid that I have trembled with fervor 
while giving thanks for the blessings received. 

As my business is small, the frequent maturities that 
have to be met are never more than a few hundred dollars. 
This fact counts for nothing. In my daily devotions I pray 
for material aid needed for solution of my problems. Many 
times in recent years I have left the office knowing I would 
need the following day to keep my contracts a certain 
sum in excess of my bank balance and not knowing where 
it was to come from, I have prayed for the exact amount 
and then gone peacefully to sleep with perfect faith that 
the Lord would provide, and He has not failed me. Only 
recently I needed for the following day $200. At my office 

1 found my first mail — no cheques. The second and third 
mails were delivered; no cheques. The fourth delivery at 

2 P. M. was the last that would be in time for deposit in 
bank. I closed my eyes a few minutes in prayer. When 
the mail arrived there was only one letter for me. It con- 
tained a cheque for $250 — and was from a source that I 
had no reason to expect it. 

This is a concrete example of many similar experiences. 
Some might say — and truly, that the cheque was in the 
mail before I prayed for it, and that I would have received 
it regardless of my prayers. I prefer to believe the mail- 
ing of the cheque was God’s way of caring for His child. 

W. E. S. 


CHAPTER LIX 


THE END OF THE NARRATIVE 

The story of fifty-seven years of my life, full of 
activity, has been told. 

As I sit at my desk writing this concluding chap- 
ter of the final edition of my narrative, my thoughts 
wander over those many years. 

Mistakes? Many of them. Some through errors 
of judgment, others, perhaps, made at times when 
the mind under the strain of terrific struggle was not 
in condition to realize the importance of my action, 
and the possibility of miscarriage of my plans. Re- 
gret for errors remains with me, and yet I cannot 
but feel that in many cases these have been caused 
in acts to help others as much or more than myself. 

“Time is the great healer.” Not the slightest feel- 
ing of bitterness remains in thoughts of friends of 
the past. Friends of the present are many, and their 
friendship is appreciated to the limit. 

With an ardent desire to make good in every re- 
spect and a determination to spare no effort to ac- 
complish results, 1 stand firm in my faith in our 
Heavenly Father. The word “worry” I crossed out 
in my dictionary years ago. Occasionally I tell my 
wife I “fret” a little, and her sweet smile drives that 
away. Never a pessimist, nor a visionary, but al- 
ways an optimist, the near future looks bright. 


The End of the Narrative 


313 


Six days a week, after a good night’s sleep, I rise 
cheerful, thankful to God for the many blessings 
bestowed upon me, and take up my work with all the 
vim and energy I have ever known. 

In perfect health, I really feel the “boy” many of 
my friends call me. 


In conclusion, these lines are devoted to my wife, 
the greatest blessing God has bestowed upon me. 

A lady once told me my narrative “contained the 
finest testimonial to a woman she had ever read,” 
and as I look at my loved one sitting by my side, to 
me a beautiful vision, I feel I have never done her 
justice. 

In every sense she is a wonderful woman. Like 
myself, in perfect health, there has never been any 
limit to her efforts to aid in every way her friends 
and others with whom she came in contact. During 
the war she worked constantly in her unit of the 
Ked Cross. No matter how busy with her own af- 
fairs, she has always found time to help others. She 
is universally loved, and children are devoted to her. 

For myself — what can I say? Her love and devo- 
tion for the fifty years of our married life is beyond 
my power to adequately portray. 

My heart is overflowing with thanks to God that 
she is with me, and I pray that for the rest of our 
lives, as always, we may be as one. 


(finis) 


EXTRACTS FROM PRESS REVIEWS OF 
EARLIER EDITIONS 

Literary Digest: 

The book has real value as a human document. For 
those who would gain real knowledge of one of the most 
fascinating phases of American life it is full of informa- 
tion — a real photograph of an unusually interesting life. 
Brooklyn Eagle: 

“The Romance and Tragedy of a Widely Known Busi- 
ness Man of New York” should interest a wide circle of 
readers, whether of business men who wish to learn some- 
thing from an accurate business autobiography or of fic- 
tion readers intelligent enough to perceive that there is no 
better realistic novel than the confession of a man who has 
failed. The book is dedicated: “To my wife who, after 
more than thirty-two years of married life, is still my 
sweetheart.” 

Therein lies the romance of a story otherwise devoted 
to the hard and often sordid details of business. The prac- 
ticed novel reader can, if he wishes, find plenty of “psy- 
chology” in the frank and simple avowal of undeviating 
affection so frequently found in men whose business career 
seems so entirely at variance with domestic qualities. 

The frontispiece, a portrait of the author’s wife, is the 
portrait of a woman who deserves the epithet heroine, 
although it is these heroic wives who are so seldom 
heard of. 

The book, it must honestly be said, is a good book. 
Without any sort of literary cunning it conveys a quick, 
clear picture of the bustle, hustle, and the heartlessness of 
business. 

San Francisco Examiner: 

A book that will no doubt attract attention in these 
frenzied finance days. It is not only interesting reading, 
but contains some good lessons for the graspers after 
dollars. Young men facing the world can read the story 
with profit. The author’s life has been a remarkable one. 
Providence Telegram: 

A remarkable sermon of friendship. It is the story of 
the author’s rise from the humble position of a broker’s 
boy to a recognized leadership in the trade with an income 
reaching far into the thousands. Success crowned his 
efforts from the start. His greatest triumph, however, 


was when he took unto himself a wife. Children blessed 
the union, and with an entry in New York society life, a 
beautiful home, swell turnouts, etc., he thought himself 
the happiest of men. Friends he had everywhere, or at 
least he thought he had them. 

Finally the crash comes and he met his Waterloo, losing 
money, home and, last but not least, friends. 

The narrative of his struggle to regain his former 
prestige in the trade is told in the same simple and un- 
affected manner as that which characterized all of the 
preceding chapters, and is filled with such sorrow and 
pathos as to powerfully work upon the sensibilities of the 
reader. He makes a gallant attempt to get on his feet 
again, but is “knifed” by competitors to such an extent 
that in the end he gives it up. 

“Romance and Tragedy” is a plain straightforward tale 
of today and in the simplicity which marks each succeed- 
ing chapter of the book there lies a mass of beauty. The 
story cannot but appeal to the average reader, for it is the 
tragedy of a life. 

The story has our hearty indorsement. 

New York World: 

In the story the business man who begins as an office 
boy, rises well toward millionairedom and is swamped with 
the aid of the unscrupulous and the ungrateful. 

Boston Herald: 

This is an unusual story. The author has told here a 
straightforward story of how he rose by earnest effort to 
a well recognized position in the business world; how with 
wife and children he became established in the respectable 
social life of Greater New York; how his prosperity 
through the agency of trusts and the market is changed 
into poverty and how a very few of those who were near 
to him in affluence befriended him in adversity. It is a 
powerful sermon on friendship, and one which in the end 
is deeply pathetic. 

After a heroic struggle to stem the tide of adversity he 
now turns to authorship, and sets forth this very human 
document of romance and tragedy, in which the identity 
of his characters is not wholly concealed and it is a story 
well worth the reading. 

San Francisco Call: 

The love story that runs through the book has all tht 
pleasing of a beautiful thing simply told. 














































